Starting over once again
Here I am tell me what to do
I’m not sure why I am the way I am
Love the abuse I assume
Respect me for what I am not what you see
Asking the world to accept something that it can’t
Lost within the confines I set up myself
Built the wall only to rip it down for no reason at all
Waste of time
Standing for nothing yet pretending it makes me something
On the fence I suppose
Get me out of here, in my head
Too long of a vacation with nowhere to go
Locked away, deep inside
Sometimes saying something is saying nothing at all
So many words that I hate, use them over and over again
Bleeding ideas from my head
Forgive the fact I have nothing to say
Respect that I’ll try any ways
Most days I feel like killing myself. I don’t know what that says about my normal state of mind, but I’m guessing these feelings are on the wrong side of good. Pick myself up off the floor and keep going. I’m not going anywhere at a fast rate of speed and neither are these feelings. I try too hard for things that should come naturally. I try too hard for the things I think I want and half ass everything else. I have a mental disorder I think. I think I’m dumb or just stupid enough to not get it. By it I mean life. What is the point? To feel like this almost every day? I guess I’m succeeding in the end after all. Swimming in shit has been my life all along. A life line made of razor blades dangles in front of me. Should I take it or move on from these self-imposed feelings in my head?
Mix of emotions about how I feel
On one hand I care on the other
You could all burn in Hell
Damnation or something worse
Not sure, don’t care
It won’t matter once you’re all gone
Words don’t mean shit unless
You give them meaning
With love from my throne of broken bones
Forever condemned to live through your sins
How can we be more than half of the world’s population and still be in this kind of shit? Because men control much more than half of the world’s money. Money equals power, power equals control. We took the easy way out and now we have to take the long hard road to get to where we should have been all along. Is this sexist? It feels fucking sexist and I have been looking at it for over a year to try and make it not feel sexist. But I think I am trying too hard to make it not sexist that it is becoming sexist no matter what. Is it sexist to speak the truth? How does one judge something based solely on words and not actions? Am I a fucking sexist for caring if I might be one or for what I say? Women deserve better than the way we treat them, but some of it they do themselves. If you want to drive, fucking drive. If you want to wear something, fucking where it. Fuck anyone who tells you different. You be you and that is all that matters. .
Hey… I was nominated for an award by Ken over at https://kenslitepen.wordpress.com/
Ken produces some of the deepest and most amazing poetry. Personal favorite is My Mother… He also started writing flash fiction and should do more of it… Poke… I want more Ken… Don’t make me have to beg…
I look forward to his post and I hope you do too… So check him out… Ken
In accordance with the award’s nature… I had to thank the person that nominated me… display the award’s picture on my blog… and list 10 random things about myself…. This also should be done by my nominees…
10 random things about me
- I like to wear only black clothes… Making an exception for my custom Little Fears shirt…
- I’m really into not being in…
- I paint…
- I love trap, rap, and R&B music… and ZEF Rap…
- My favorite show is Always Sunny in Philadelphia… Seinfeld on Crack…
- I’m really into comic books… I have way too many and by that I mean not enough…
- Japanese food is my favorite… Yakisoba… from northern Japan…
- Daredevil is my favorite super hero… because his power is that he is blind…
- I have daily doubts about what my favorite song is…
- I really like commas… despite my over use of periods…
Soren and Fox
Ally L. Mare
Unsure how to tag people so hopefully the links work or I screwed this all up…
I was asked these two questions
- What would you consider as the most embarrassing moment of your life…
I was telling someone I liked the band Alien Sex Fiend… but I said Anal Sex Fiend… yeah… that someone was my father-in-law….
- If you were a bird, who would you shit on 😂
First off I am a bird… well a type of bird… and I shit on myself constantly… So more of that…
So now, to my nominees here are my questions for you.
- What is your favorite kind of post to read or write?… doesn’t have to be your most popular…
- How often should someone changes their underwear?… there’s no wrong answer, but best answer wins…
I kind of just want to ask people random questions now… I know all of these people, but do I know them… Is it odd to know all of our thoughts and feelings on life, but we have no idea what each of our favorite colors are?… Something to chew on…
I may have written myself into a hole. I know I’m always in a hole. Maybe a side hole? That sounds strange. What I mean is I need to recharge. Regroup my thoughts about everything. Call it writers block if you want, but I have been writing. I’ve been working on my next project Running Into Traffic. Full title is Running Into Traffic with a Pair of Scissors and a Glow Stick. Safety First. For those of you unfamiliar I like long ass book titles. My first short story collection was titled, Drinking Bleach to Stay Alive and my poem collection is called And Other Things From This Time. I cut them down to Drinking Bleach and And Other Things. This one will get a title cut down as well. Could you imagine the original title on a book shelf or in a review?
I’m sure you are thinking that this is for comedic purposes. Honestly it is not, but it did work out that way. Like Chewing on Glass I like to find fun ways to do awful things. Hints Drinking Bleach or Running Into Traffic. I also like to throw off the scent of what I am working on. Both titles don’t scream short story collection. Hopefully over time they will, but I can see at present that they don’t. No I don’t care.
I decided a long as time ago that for short story collections I would use something arcane for titles. Years ago when I was putting together Drinking Bleach I fell in love with that title though originally that was not my plan. In fact I had no plan to ever write bleach. What I wanted to write was A Lie my novel, but at the time I had never written a single story. So I wrote my ideas down for A Lie and what I wanted to say. Put it away kind of and began my first short story. Which was To Become King. I know an action story was the first story I ever wrote. Very strange indeed.
Lost focus there for a second. How I came to the title Drinking Bleach. Before I began writing or wanting to be a writer I wanted to be in a band. Music is a huge part of everything I do. I listen to music constantly. Sadly I have no musical talent. But what I do have is imagination. I use to imagine that I had this amazing band called The Virgin Suicides. (Yes the short story The Last Great Band is based on them. Which can be found in Drinking Bleach.) So they needed an album title and that is where I came up with Drinking Bleach. To fit into that whole gimmick. I had a lot of gimmicks for this band. I have a taste for the theatrics.
The idea for the cover was to reproduce that party scene from the film, but with all the kids drinking bleach instead of punch. Pretty basic. (Also I hate the smell of bleach so it seemed like a really shitty way to go.) This was also supposed to be the book cover, but that never happened. I went with a whole other picture with the idea of going back later and changing it. It is now years later and I still haven’t bothered. I like the current cover, but it doesn’t convey what I wanted to say. If you follow me on Twitter it is basically the same story about the Penguin…. I need to change that.
Diving right into the subject on this one. I’m sure I’ll dip in and out of anything I have to say. Thought about all of this six hours ago. My favorite book of all time is Post Office by Charles Bukowski. If you haven’t read it well. Well you should have by now. Bukowski is something else. Amazon has labels, the library has a section, but to me Bukowski is life. With that said is Post Office the greatest book ever written? Probably not. Could careless if anyone or no one else likes it.
The thing about Post Office that I love so much is this feeling. This feeling that life will never get better. This feeling that life is a trap. This feeling that you will always be stuck doing the same thing forever. I struggle with these issues on a daily basis as I’m sure most of us do. This doesn’t go away as we get older. But in a sense you have to settle. I hate to use that word and by definition what I’m about to say would go against that word. You get a fucking Treasures I’m writing here.
Point is that in life not everything is perfect all the time. Not every aspect of your life is what you dreamed it would be. One realizes with time that the only power they have is to choose which aspects of their lives to focus on. You can only spin so many fucking plates until it all comes crashing down.
I work hard at my job. Ask any of them and I’m awesome or whatever, but that place could burn down tomorrow. I’d be more pissed that I now have to find another job I don’t care about then anything to do with that place. I settled for my job. Oh well could give a fuck. I need money for things I actually care about.
I didn’t settle on my family or the time that I spend with them. I don’t settle on my writing. Maybe after draft eighteen, but most of the time I don’t. These are things that I can make perfect. Things that I can care about. Things that make me happy. Yes I have that emotion somewhere deep down in there. Things I won’t settle for.
Post Office didn’t teach me any of this. What Post Office did was made me realize I was trapped. That I was lost. That I was going to get stuck. Post Office made me think and that is why books are important. I saw the parallels that I was living to the main character, and I knew that, that was not what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to just get by in this life. I had a goal and I needed to do more than hope. I needed to do more than let the waves drag me under. Fuck what happens. That is what Post Office left me with. This feeling that what was going to happen was going to happen anyways. Might as well fuck with it until it does. We get one life. Take a chance.
“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I’ll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”
Charles Bukowski, Post Office
When you look back over a life time you realize just how much time you’ve wasted. You see how minutes are not hours, hours not as days or weeks or life times. You see however that years become seconds and decades minutes. Time slips right by without even a second look. The twenty-five year old me would say I live without regrets and the fifty year old me would tell you how much I live with only regrets. He’d tell you all about how much time I wished I could get back. Time is wasted on the young and stupid. Not that we truly get any smarter with age. I mean I am sitting here writing to any empty audience and wasting the very time I wish to get back. Age is a trip. God damn is it ever. If I could go back in time I’d tell the twenty-five year old me to quit working and go have some fun.
I’d tell him money is worthless and all the shit wasted on it is just that shit. I’d tell him so many things I already tell myself every day. I’d say live for today and not the week. If only I could go back and warn him of the old man he would become. That’s what I would do if I could go back in time. I’d be selfish for the first time in my life. Never look back, because all you will find is regrets for all the time wasted. A lifetime of waiting for something better is really nothing more than a waste of life.
There’s never going to be a better time than now. When you’re young, when you still have life not at the end of it. Not when there’s nothing left because that is all that is left after a life time of saving and waiting, a whole lot of nothing. You could say that I’m bitter, but I’m just being honest. If you can take one thing from this I hope it is the message to live, to have fun, to have a life worth looking back on. Because in the end this is all that matters, having something to look back on. If only I had listened to myself.
Oh and she cheats on you with your best friend, and the kids all hate you because they think it’s your fault the family fell apart. It took a life time to learn that so use the information well. Good luck and maybe when it’s all said and done. I won’t be seeing you in the end.