Anxiety

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As the medicine fails
The hatred grows
And
I scream an everlasting scream

As the doctors
And
Therapist fail
I inflict the pain on my body that my mind tells me I deserve

The fear bubbles to the surface
As the Disease wraps its hands around my throat
It smiles
And
Laughs
As it proclaims my failures
And
Drags me to the ground to spew
Blood
And
Viscera
And
Hatred
Into my screaming mouth.

The sewage of this disease’s words
Are the truth
The only truth I can know
And
I accept them with a
Loving
Tear filled
Hateful smile
That is a reflection of its gaping maw.

This disease
Holds me
Caresses me
And
Speaks to me
Reminders that
I am a burden
I am detestable
That all those who look at me see only
Weakness
And
Cowardice
And
A millstone tied around their necks
I scream that it is a lie
But I don’t believe my screams
I don’t believe the words of those around me who speak
Comforting words
Gentle phrases
And
Reassuring statements.

This disease is the holder of the truth
The fruit of the tree of knowledge
The keeper of my soul,
Its toy
That it poses in
Obscene positions
To the unending laughter
Of the hatred that dwells within.

I know this disease lies to me
I know it very well
But it is telling me the truth my mind wants to hear.

I want someone to hate me
Someone to yell at me
Someone to give me a dirty look
So my self hatred is shown to be an objective truth
So I can happily feast on the bullshit this disease feeding me
While I smile
And
Cry
And
wait for this disease to be silent.

Hyperbolic Silence

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Hyperbolic silence,
It’s like living in an
Anechoic chamber
Causing
Chaos that breathes
Life
And
Hatred
And
Desperation
Into a madman’s mouth
Causing him to scream
Blasphemies
Incoherent ramblings
Obscenities
And
Deranged proclamations.

It is this hyperbolic silence
Which causes the recital of
Beautiful odes
Endearing rhymes
Lively jigs
And
Sorrow filled songs.

It is this hyperbolic silence
That causes the clutching of heads
In a mad desperation
To block out the emptiness within.

This hyperbolic silence
Prevails among the silent few
Who walk with their heads down
Who wail and gnash their teeth
Until exhaustion overtakes them
And they sleep an unwanted sleep
Filled with hellish creatures
Singing
Blasphemous melodies
To the disgust of the wailing dead.

This hyperbolic silence
Is the silence
That plagues those
Who walk with smiles larger than life itself
Who laugh hardest
Who care deepest;
Who are the life of parties
That spread the joy that is foreign to them
The happiness their souls are denied.

This hyperbolic silence,
Is the isolation
That burns the fingers
With the cherry of a cigarette.
It is a living breathing cruelty
That pickles the liver
With whiskey days and vodka nights.
It is a relentless sorrow
That scorches the mind
With crystal smoke and opium dreams.
It is a hate-filled voice
That pulls the trigger
And fills floors and walls with blood.
It is the hand
Which guides the artist.
It is the tears that flow
For reasons unknown
Even to those who weep.
It is the shackles
That bind many
Into the servitude
Of doctors
And
Pills
And
Hour long discussions
About
Neglect
Daily beatings
Rape
Molestation
War
Brain damage
Or
The machinations of a shit filled gene pool…

This hateful silence
This beautiful silence
This deadly silence
This hyperbolic silence
Is a silence that does not forgive
Sins that remain uncommitted
By those slated to die
For crimes unknown.

We live in a void
Running into infinity
After a glimmer of light
To find what eludes us
To find an object
To fill a hole
That cannot be unseen
And may only be
A deranged illusion
Brought on by a mind unhinged…

We are Birthed
By this
We are consumed
By this,
This
Bitterness
This
Hopelessness
This
Deadliness
This
Self-destruction
This
Inverse Beauty
That brings
Hate filled wonders
With each new day
As we search
For a sound unknown
The sound of peace
That will overwhelm
This
Hyperbolic silence.

Reality Is A Lonely Place

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Reality is a lonely place
Is it not?
We arrive and leave without a trace
We live only to be forgot.

However, this is not a thing of sorrow
For it is the natural way
That we die, and then tomorrow
The sun rises, bringing a new day.

The world revolves without us
It needs nothing from our souls
For we become the eternal dust,
When we return to the place we used to know.

A thousand years will pass
With it, all our deeds
Save for the trees that bloom
From our planted seeds
Our names will fade
Our voices will grow silent
Our memories frayed
Whether we be a peasant or tyrant

King or pauper
Wise-manor fool
Warrior of lover
We are all minuscule
In the eyes of stars
That stretch into eternity
From the suns to the quarks
We are nothing compared to infinity,
However, let us smile on this earthly plane
Even though we are doomed to die
For when you see the stars hanging in the sky
Remember that we are their remains.

Entitled Generation

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We are born into hopelessness

Into lies

Into debt

And poverty.

We are born into

Avaricious

Lust filled

Old men

Screaming

At the youth,

“Don’t fuck

Don’t suck

Learn”

In a broken education system

“Work”

In a world that has no jobs

“You are not smart enough

So

You must work

So you can pay to be smart”

There are no jobs

“You are lazy

Defunct

Worthless

And entitled.”

They are wrong

Save for one point

We are entitled.

Entitled

To the hope promised to us since birth

To the joy they said we would feel until our deaths

To the beautiful future that was promised to us only to be polluted by ash and radiation

To the freedom that has been eroded since before our birth

To the financial security that they squandered on wars and bailouts

To the good health that is so expensive that it is cheaper to die

To the education that is so expensive that is more profitable to be a fool

More profitable

To sell our bodies

To sell our dignity

To be stared at

Glared at

Mocked

Ridiculed

Hated

And derided as the cause of the fall of western civilization

It is more profitable

To be lame

Crippled

And dismembered

So we can parade ourselves around for even greater crowds to gawk and jeer at.

We are born into this lie

Into debt

Into chains.

Our birth certificates are bills of sale

Our diplomas are a mockery of wisdom

Our jobs are affronts to joy and freedom

Our money bares the faces of rapist and slave owners

A fitting monument to the excess sold to us

The fool’s gold pressed into bricks

The piss presented as rain.

We are born into a hatred that will consume us

Leaving only the ash of our former selves

A grim reminder of their broken promises

Soon forgotten and replaced by new lies

To be told to the next generation.

Glory, Glory, No More Hallelujahs

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Death comes
Sudden and inglorious.
Be it
A murmur of the heart
A tumor in the brain
Or
A bullet in the body
Causing you to
Bleed out
Cry
Shit yourself
And then expire.

So to hell with death
And all that comes with it
To hell with
Glory
And
Honor
On the battlefield.

I’ll die
Unarmed
I’ll die
Throwing my
Weapons on the ground
And
Letting my enemy
Slaughter me like the cattle I am
I’ll die
Making sure
That
No poem could be written about me
Making sure
That
No movie could be made about me
Making sure
That
No pundit couldn’t mention me in
Faux Mourning

I’ll surrender
Just to
Spit in the face
Of all
Glory hounds
Fascist flag wavers
And
Right wing pundits.

To hell with
Dignity
And grace
In the hospital.

I’ll die
Raging
I’ll die
Yelling
Obscene lyrics
Disgusting odes
And
Unheard vulgarities.

I’ll give the poor bastards working there
A final breathe worth talking about
Not some
Mealy mouthed
Feel good
Bullshit.
Not something
That’ll make it into some
Young adult novel
Or
Inspirational movie
To be quoted
By
The morons
That are merging with an armchair
Or
Upper-middle class yuppies
That wish to feel
Without suffering consequences.

I’ll scream something
I don’t know what
But it’ll be something
Just
Something
So that they’ll
Know that
I was not here for them
But
In spite of them.

Imbibed Avarice

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It’s time to move on
From lesser things,
The man at the pulpit says.
The clock hands are
Spinning out of control
The tides are
Crashing hard
And the moon is
Sinking,
So it’s time to move on
From visceral pleasure
From loosed minds
And from imbibed nights.

But I won’t
It’s too much fun
So I’ll smash the clock
Turn back the tides
Stop the sun
And keep the moon in the sky.

I’ll wander the stars
Trip over moons
And rest my feet
On distant worlds.

Why should I stop?
Is it attachment
To this world
Or
To my lover
Or
To my very breath?

Should I stop for
Meditation
The Pondering Of philosophical tomes
The journey to heaven
To a higher existence?

Have I not done that
In the
Imbibed nights
When I loosed my mind
And engaged in
Visceral pleasure?

Was there no
Greater purpose
In
Those
Moments?
Did I not
Achieve a
Higher existence
For
One of those moments?

To hell with it all.
Keep your clocks
And
Your tides
And
Your sun
And
Your moon.

I’ll create
My own
Clock and
Tides and
Sun and
Moon
Or
Perhaps
I’ll
Just
Die.

Drinking Mercury, Auto-Fellatio

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Sometimes I feel
Like
Writing
All of this shit
Is like drinking
Mercury
To cure a cancer
That is eating a
Hole in my body.

I write
But
The words
Bring me no joy
Or
Satisfaction

Sometimes
The words
Mean nothing
To me
Nothing at all

I guess that’s
Why I love
The idea
Of
Death of the author

I don’t know
All I know
Is
That
This poem has
No direction
Maybe
No purpose
Maybe
I’m just
Pissing in the wind

But maybe
The reader
Can get something out
Of this
Shit
This
Jangled mess

Maybe I can too
Maybe
This
Will fill
The hole
I see
Everyday

The hole
That I’m
Desperately
Trying to fill

I know that’s
Wishful thinking

The hole
Can never
Be filled

The hole
Just sits there
Empty

Empty
As the day
I first
Saw it
And
Nothing I do
Will change that

So
I guess
All of this is in vain
Or
Maybe
Something worse
Maybe
These words are
Self aggrandizing
Masturbatory
Catharsis seeking
Bullshit

But fuck it
Fuck it all
It doesn’t matter
None of this does
Not one word
Not one syllable
Not one letter
Matters at all

So
Fuck you
For reading this

Fuck me
For writing this
Egomaniacal
Cathartic
Bullshit

It’s all useless
It’s all meaningless
But
I’ll keep writing anyways
As I suck on
Dry tobacco
Because you’ll keep reading it
For some
Ungodly
Self fellating
Circle jerking
Reason

You’ll just
Read this
Shit
Until
It ends
Won’t you?

Small Hands

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Small hands
Wispy hair
Gentle eyes
And a heart full of care.

She doesn’t fear me
As others do
She holds me
Her tiny body next to mine
She makes it an armor
For the lies
That this disease
Forces before my eyes;
She says she’ll protect me
From the monsters I see
And show my diseased mind
What is true.

A gentle kiss
From a gentle child
As she hums a lullaby
To help me bid
This world goodbye
And enter one with no fear;

I love her
For her innocent voice
Makes my demons disappear.