I have my father's eyes and my mother's lack of shame. They were both very intelligent but I inherited my father's forgetfulness and poor decision making. I like to think forgetfulness is the sign of a busy mind. I inherited my abrasive personality from my mother but my offensive and morbid sense of humor is all my own. Are we all just the combined mistakes from both our parents? Dad had a bad stomach I think, pretty sure that's where I get mine from, he used to drink baking soda. They both did bad things but I think I turned out alright. They also built me strong, thought I don't know who I got my hate from. Mom said she never thought they were really in love. Love, but not IN love. She said he had no passion for anything after the heroin. But goddamnit he wasn't always on that shit. Tell me what he liked, what kind of man he was, because all I remember are the good things and a few of the bad, but he was god in my eyes no matter what. I have the god but I want to know the man. He made mistakes, this is true. But besides working on the cars and taking me to movies every Sunday and hanging out of the forest preserve flying kites tell me what he had interest in, hobbies, music he liked. I get my sense of honesty from the lack of it from either of them. I don't do drugs and I rarely drink, opposite of both of them.

Mama said "it's normal to want to die
most people think like that every once in awhile"
it comes up and I push it back down again
like the acid reflux from my esophageal duct
your naivete settles on my skin
similar to nuclear ash blown in from the wind
I hate you for being so pure
but I hope you know I hate myself more

I ask myself what am I doing here, I'm in this familiar situation
how could I go back to something that's caused me so much humiliation
but you're the puppeteer, and you use my veins as a marionette
just scratch under my chin a little bit and I'll be your pet

Mother Destroyer

Destroyer, Devourer

I hate myself for letting you go,
you had been the perfect zygote.
I made you mine and corrupted you
with my essence, I aborted your wide eyes
and childlike innocence.
You deserved better than me, no less,
I then devoured you and received smug satisfaction
from the sins of your flesh.


Mother, Lover

Drain me dry. Be my parasite.
I can feel your pain.
Be my child. I'm your mother now.
I will keep you safe.
Drink from my breast,
infest, this is parasitism not incest,
I need your body to ingest, I'll keep
you close to my heart, deep in my chest.

Fog

I've burned a couple friendships
over the precipitation's calm complacence
I wish I would learn a little time management
I don't know how to cope with anything that needs maintenance

everybody gets mad at me for it and it never clicks
when time passes by I guess I just don't see it
so for some reason I can't see the forest for the trees
the sands of the hourglass pass through me like wind in the leaves

then sometimes my thoughts and pulse start to race
I begin to feel out of place and I inadvertently alienate
and soon the fog rolls in with no explanation
but in the end there's no one left to placate

I really never meant to make you cry
I do the things that I do and I just don't know why
but sometimes I'd just rather be standing alone in the fog
alone in my head, at one with the dark

Naive boy

I prayed to the good lawd to send me a boy
the good lawd, he sent me, sent me an 18 year old toy
now no matter what I do I can't get rid of this kid
he's stuck to me like glue

I'm not your mommy
I'm not your daddy
I'm not your saving grace

Now I, I think he wants to say "I love you"
and I don't want to hurt him but I'm sure he's quite a fool
he could be anything to anyone
though to me he's only a tool

I'm not your angel
I'm not your savior
I'm not your lackluster kiss

You were good for a few,
and, and we've even had a bit of fun too
but I don't really see myself at all in you
and I don't know what you see in me so I think we should let it be


I'm not your "baby"
I'm not your game
I'm not your fate

Head hurts, so pop a couple excedrin for migraine relief
take ranitidine for the acid as stomach begins to bleed
migraine's still not gone, take 500mg of acetaminophen
nausea starts, so now I'm taking dramamine
head still hurts so take one more excedrin
maybe I should also eat a gummy vitamin
in case I'm lacking a certain vital nutrient
drink some milk to settle the acid pain
dab nostrils with oil of soothing jasmine again
perhaps this will aid in some relaxation
head still hurts, so take one more excedrin
dilate the blood vessels, drink a little caffeine
now I have nausea, acid reflux and a migraine
nothing I take seems to stop the pain

head still hurts, take another excedrin.

Some thoughts better left unspoken

You can do pretty much anything to a corpse within reason, kick it and it won't bleed, bruise or swell up. The skin can tear though, don't make the skin tear. After a few days it'll be hard enough that the fat doesn't leak out, but still, you don't want the skin to tear.

You could use a type of spirit gum or even duct tape if you had to mend the skin, it's a lot like patching a leather couch. Just make sure you keep the skin clean before applying or it could get messy and look poorly done. You don't want it to look messy, you want it to look nice and clean.

Flotsam

I am floating in an ocean.


The depths are alien and entirely immeasurable.

It is dark and I am alone.\

The waves rock me, lulling me into sweet oblivion/.



The saltwater sting in my eyes is the only thing I feel amidst the cold and numbness of my prostrate body/ .


Floating along, floating a(L)one.



BOBBING UP AND DOWN/.//.

S0ul served chilled.



Stiffened limbs akimbo. Mouth agape.


Deadening.


/\Waves slowly churning-mouth fills with foam and seaweed.


I am euphoric with the cleansing.


The black calm.

I just lay there.


I just lay there.

I lay \there drifting and my hair tangles





,gets caught in my


eyelashes .

It's a wonderfully gloomy and rainy day, perfectly suiting my mood and perfect for sleeping but I can not. Today is the 15 year anniversary of the death of my father. My dad...What do I really do or say anymore? Last year on Father's Day I sat on the bed of his tombstone implanted flat into the ground and screamed at the sky, flailing and beating my fists into the ground wondering why this had to happen to him? To me? Why had he done what he did? I don't blame him though, I can't how could I?

You left your little girl here. I'm still here, I'm still your little girl and I haven't really grown up and I'll never grow up without you.

Feverish Infatutation

You're Christ-like to me with your youth and beauty
lips that curve slightly at the corners when you see me
ocean-blue eyes open so wide and suddenly I feel alive
you stare into my soul and with a look you get me high

the best of me

There's that familiar feeling again
in the pit of my chest and heart
the unsettling knowledge that you're back on the streets
when's it going to stop?
I block every number you call me from
it hurts, but I'm mostly gone and there's nothing to discuss
logic doesn't sit well with you
and you've got nothing to say but it was all my fault
as if I did anything but try to heal you
leave me a voicemail about hating me
leave me a voicemail about you're sorry
leave me a voicemail about you love me
leave me a voicemail about suicide
I've got nothing left to say
I gave you all I had
and you destroyed the best of me

Silent Watcher

That right there was my perfect little family
over the years I was going to watch them grow
they were the ones to fill me with hope
then I found out things I didn't want to know
turns out they weren't really happy at all.

Unfinished

We're made of the same cloth, so don't desecrate me.
He yelled at me and made me cry when I showed him my list of people I wanted to die.
I musta been about 8. I learned from those mistakes.
You're nothing special and you're looking pretty old.
Wannabes make me laugh.

I hate all reminders of you. I hate you. I love you. I hate that there is someone out there just like you. He's in this very town. Looks like you and acts like you, sings the way you do. Draws me closer and repels me. Get the fuck away. Frustration. A creature like him shouldn't exist and neither should you. I love you. Get the fuck away from me. I hate you. I love you.
It's over.

The same chipped paint. Different location, same room. The one I'd always sat my back against it's wall, staring up at the ceiling, noticing how "Real" everything looks. No fake wood paneling this time, but the same stained, off-white ceiling. It always comes down to this. Here I am, sitting here on my bed, alone, always alone. The same bittersweet suffering. Different day, same pain. My pupils always constrict in this mood. They get so small I can hardly see. What I can see though is the more things change, the more they stay the same. Always in a box. Alone in a box, live in a box, die in a box, buried in a box. I'll just lay here, hungry and rotting.

The days all blur together with no real sense of purpose, whether I'm working or not it makes no difference. Why am I here? I didn't ask for this. I'm tired of existing so much. If we could all just die out as a species it'd be so fine. I'm getting really sick of a thing called "time".

Shhh, calm down, it'll be okay, we're all going to die soon one day anyways.
Hush, hush, we're on our way down now. There's nothing anyone can do and it'll be the end soon.

I'm bored. It's not so much the suffering as the lack of feeling anything beautiful. The magic in this life has died. There's nothing left but cold, stark reality and I think that I must see it better than most. Everything is temporary. What's the point of trying to save money, save lives, save anything when it all ends so quickly?

I'm waiting, still just waiting. I always have been. I was born waiting. I never wanted to be here. The moment I could think I knew I wasn't meant for this. What's the point of resting if you don't get any sleep? You teeter on the edge of breaking, yet it gives you enough to feebly wander on. Is it normal to be tired all the time? I can't remember a restful night of sleep in many years. I always wake up feeling remorse or regret, or maybe even just disappointment. Why am I still here? Again? Today? It's another day? Really? Why?

I open my eyes, sigh and pull myself out of bed. It's the hardest thing in the world to do. Maybe if I actually slept soundly and didn't wake up every hour it might feel okay.
Still, I open my eyes, no light streaming down, and if it had it wouldn't be beautiful anyways, it'd just keep me awake, laying there somewhere between sleep and consciousness, not dead but dreaming.

...and on him blinked eyes with the dullness of a child. There was no intelligence there and you could see no glow from within.

The Monster (Part 2) Kali

Satiate the lust
Satisfy the urge to kill
Kids like to kill, it's true
I did and so did you

Part the flesh with blade
make me feel your sincerity
fuck me as I fuck your every wound
I've always secretly loved this part of me

There's no shame in fulfilling the Beast
I can make you love me
I want to crush your hopes and dreams
before I disembowel you externally

Here I sit, I simmer and stir
the rage beneath doesn't like to wait
it grows exponentially
I want to cut out your eyes and keep them with me

You can make me love you
I'll love you hard before I kill you
I want nothing more in this life
than the excess of my extreme desires

Drag you across the pavement
skin sticking to concrete like moist ribbons
DNA that's as wet as the wholeness of me
inward and outward delight

I can wear your intestines like a suit
I'm more man than you'll ever be
inside my chest lives a red storm
love and hate are really the same thing

I try to quell manipulation
keep down the violence
quiet the maelstrom
live for more than hedonism
but this is the true nature of the inner being
open up your third eye
enlightenment comes not from salvation
that's all lies
you come from me
I come from Destruction
Destruction is Purity

Kids like to kill
It's true
I loved it every day and so did you

Monster (Part 1)

The Monster is inside of me
the Whore I can hear mewl and breathe
She keeps an eye on everything
behind the scenes She pulls the strings

I lay Her down to say good night
but in the end She wins the fight
She finds a way to complete Her life
the Monster does this out of spite

The Monster is inside of me
The Monster is inside of me
The Monster is inside of me

It's all true

Sinking into mental illness, this place makes me feel empty and alone, it's like a house made of bones. Like a ripple that time forgot, nothing ever changes from within, but from without I grow older, wrinkles lace my face like frost-lines bloom across a frozen lake. I don't know how to deal with it. It is here where I feel least real. Dead birds sift through the walls like grains of sand they land on the floor to rot, cold and stark. There is no longer a "him" or a "you", there is no one left to write to, no audience, and I will not bow out but I will slowly fade away. The clock beats on ever faster and life about and around changes and time does go on and another day is lost as I achieve the grandest finale of infinite nothingness. I can see it in my dreams. The last shiver.

Moth to flame.

Time to sever ties and cut losses
it was beautiful knowing you
thanks for giving me a place to sigh
you're ugly and boring without your face on
time to cut losses and sever ties
getting sick of all the lies
I just keep on keepin' on
I'm done experimenting with life
studying you and your vomit of cigarette ash
as people grow old they begin to die
it's fun to watch the skin form lines
and I notice the bags under your eyes
anywhere not here is a 2-hour drive
you hate who I am and that makes me smile
because what you hate is what you wanted
the whole time

I think I'm paranoid

Sometimes I feel someone in the back of my head, spread out across brain matter, watching me, trickling fingers in and around neural pathways, a tingling like paranoia.
The monster is inside me. The monster is me.

I feel it watching me, observing me when I'm alone, when I'm driving alone at night I feel the eyes on me, or perhaps within and around me. A somewhat menacing sensation like I'm missing something. Maybe something is about to happen, a suspense, a build-up, but nothing ever happens.

Every now and then when I'm more alone than anything, I don't really feel alone at all.

relapse

It's sad to say you're like a drug, and when your blood mixes with mine it's the best I've felt in my entire life. The longer I go, the worse I feel and I haven't had a fix in awhile. I don't know how to get past this. I don't know how to stop. The more of you I get the more damage is done, and when you're gone the damage doesn't stop. Do you even give a fuck? Did you ever? You've destroyed me completely and utterly. I'm useless now. I'm nothing. You've embedded your barbs into my veins as you force your addictive poison in. I've got no way out, there's only relapse and overdose.

Sleep is eluding me
all I want is a reason to continue to be
to exist more than simply
yet I can't come up with anything
to make life worth living
and I've got nothing worth giving

Every day the same nightmare for months. You relapse and we fight, and I hit you in the face repeatedly and it does nothing. It happened. All of it, the whole dream came true. You relapsed and I hit you in the face over and over, and just like the dream it did nothing. Now I don't know whether I'm awake and this is real or I'm still dreaming...

I'm so tired I can't think or sleep
and I'm so hungry I don't want to eat

If I still had a father
would I also have a God?
If I had had a mother
would I now have a God?
If I could remember more than suffering
would I have salvation?
If I had had a sister
would I now have hope?


------------------------------------------
I was alone.
I had no family.
Somehow we were all separate people
living separate lives
in the same house.
Together apart.

If walls could talk
they wouldn't
because we never did.

I was alone.
Existing inside my head.
Living within my mind.
A thing hollow with nothing inside.
It's just dark in there.
I couldn't make it go away.

I couldn't make them love each other.
I couldn't make her be my mother.
I wonder what he saw when he looked in the mirror.
If he had looked at me he might have seen himself.
I looked just like him.

I tried to hang myself when I was seven.
I told myself I wouldn't do that again.

I didn't know why my sister hated me.
She used to hurt me.
I was scared all the time.
She was six years older.
That's a lot.



They cheated
They lied
She wanted a divorce
He overdosed
I was ten
She found someone else
He tried to kill her
She smoked crack
We lost the house
I moved away
My aunt said she was scared of me
She kicked me out
I was thrown away
She still smoked crack
We lived in a motel
We moved again
I dropped out
Six years of meds
It never helped

Past-life Regression

Do we fade away, or melt back into what we once were? Do we become something entirely different?

I wish I could pause this life and then exit quietly just to see what's past this, and then if I don't like it, resume.

Are memories leaking through?

Thoughts, memories, they're all we really have of ourselves. So many say not to live in the past, but it's the only thing that's known, that's reliable, that we can count on. The past is all we know. The future is uncertain. The future may not exist at all.
The past holds the key to everything, it shapes the future. The future is a mewling baby drenched in the sweat and tears and grime of the past.
The past is us, and we are the past.

Do we really exist, or are we just dreaming?
Am I waking up, or am I just crazy?

So maybe there's been an anomaly. Hearing Latin words in my head and feeling like I should kill myself-not out of depression, but because everything is wrong and I'm not supposed to even exist here. I'm supposed to be somewhere else. Maybe suicide isn't the coward's way out, but the only way to pass some sort of test to see if we're strong enough to seek truth.

Maybe in this linear timeline there has been a wink.

-------------------------0---------------------

Things change forever. The wink is some sort of reality-altering event.


So this was our time and reality:

-----------------------------------------------


This was the event:

-------------------------0---------------------



This is our reality afterwards, it branches off, and two separate realities on parallel timelines occur:

-------------------------0<=====

Very basic idea. If this were true, it would probably happen an infinite number of times.


Maybe reality as we know it is like the shifting tectonic plates underneath the earth's crust, reality could shift in and out of place numerous times, indefinitely.
Maybe it's like an iceberg, we're living on the surface, and if we delved just a bit deeper we could see what's really going on.

Or maybe there's nothing more than this existence, which would seem pretty meaningless. I wish I could know.

Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae

I am the canvas
shrouded with a halo of data
I seek truth
projecting a white light
of hot anticipation

You are the template
an anomaly of lies
broken files and shattered memories
you climb inside
and infect my reasoning

Haiku

Rippling gelatin
Sea of quivering, fat flesh
you are disgusting

...and out of the primordial dusts I arose and built myself an empire, and nothing can take that away from me ever...

All that's in those eyes are lies

she has made so many untruths of herself

that that's all she has become

she doesn't know herself, she's dead inside

bloated corpse in amniotic fluid.

The Things I've Seen, The Things He's Shown Me

My eyes thirstily drinking it all in, I'd never seen anything so pure in my life. He channeled the universe through the focal point of his lens and created something I never thought I would see. I can't even begin to-....

The quiet man with the sad soul had focused the exquisite beauty of his very being into his photographs. Over the years since we last met he has become profoundly and infinitely adept at creating such rapturous art that I have so much difficulty in even putting stupid, simple human words to it. Silly mouth-sounds in all of the world's most beautiful languages could never begin to express, define, or describe the catharsis with which his photographs inflict upon me. He himself is magic, and he has burnt away all the impurities found in life and has unveiled the cleanest, purest reason for existence:

TRUTH.

Heart attack, sweet, sweet heart attack. Where do you go when you don't know where you wanna go when you die, when you die, when you die? Slip past a galaxy, reincarnate out of misery, get reborn into multiplicity. Sigh, sigh, lie.

Womb.

Tearing it down like old wallpaper. Ugly patterns, pretty, pretty blood. Purple sky bruised, bleeding and leprosy plagued. Husk. Happy husk. DO NOT DELETE ME. Evolve into a new species.