Seven Seconds Off The Rest Of Your Life

Hey there gentle reader,

Its a Tuesday and I'm sitting at home, jobless and listless. Its not a good thing, whomever said that bumming was a good thing deserves to get a head check. I however believe that bumming is alright if you've already gotten rid off all forms of pride and sense of self worth. Speaks a lot about myself doesn't it? Its a form of plumbing the depths of my lack of self image. Wonderful isn't it?
I'm the :-

1)Ironic arm chair critic

2)Hopeless purveyor of moral and principle

3)Fan of sitting on my fat ass

4)Heretic in need of god

5)A loyal fan of the bad, dirty and unecessarily ugly

6)Person who loves my friends but they don't actually love me back

7)Someone who misses someone

8)Hopelessly romantic only in imagination

9)Listening to obscure elitist music

10)In need of an easy BUT high paying job

11)Wishing that money was worth more than blood

12)Want to party harder for the sake of being able to

13)Laughing at a clip of a poor girl getting her head blown off

14)Planning my own funeral

15)Making sure I've made my bed

That's my list for the moment, encapsulates my thoughts and needs at this immediate slice of time.

and yeah, a fuck and a shit would do just nicely!

I am THE real crazy kid! You can only dream about being me

I think Death Would Really Like To Be Friends

Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
Whew! I'm alive..

Dead, Dead, Dead, Dead, Dead
Whew! I'm suprised

I've got a red tie on a black shirt waiting for me
I've got a great girl in a black shirt screaming for me
Its been four days that my body has let me down,
Whizzing and whining my ship sank
Into a cold, dark and shivering abyss
Afraid of itself,
Afraid for itself,

I cannot thank you my friend,
I can only send it to you,
I'm wired like a robot, a rat with wheels, a fly on pills
My eyes seem two cents short of being valuable
My heart seems two beats short of being functional
An iron lung for christmas, thats what I want
A wish, A dream, Not ten thousand desires.

Fingers trailing in a stream, speckled shakings and leanings
Are they dead or is the water dead,
Time my movements, slow my conscience.
OH! I hate being strapped to your moody thoughts
Life ebbs and dreams trap, The sludge I call my blood.
A spider and a smoky mirror, beauty prays to my shrine
Eternity is eternal because we hope so.
I see the bile, black and swallowed
I sleep the sleep of ancients, I cry the weep of infants

Be, Been, Was me

* This piece is dedicated to the insanity I felt when I allowed her to kiss me

The Deed Is Done, Blood's On My Hands....Pray For Me!

Hey there,
This has been a momentous week for me both as an individual and also a son, I stood up to my dad in order to direct things in my life. It has been really painful for me, to the point that I repeatedly questioned my sanity and personal adequacies. I've searched and fine combed my soul for clues for ways to not give a proverbial fuck to the man. Moods and atitudes have swayed dangerously close to delirium and mental incapacitation.
I've gone through the following:-
a)guilt
b)hate
c)lust
d)loss
e)disillusionment
f)enlightenedment
g)all-encompassing fear
h)jealousy
i)envy
j)spite
k)ecstacy
l)accomplishment
but; I've never ever found contentment and inner peace.

The ghost of my pass haunts and hunts me, seeking to destroy whatever I have left of me.

I seek you Lord,
The one true way,
My salvation I know and want to receive,
But where are you Lord? Where and what do i do?
I do what they all tell me to do but you don't seem any closer or more real in any sense.
How do I know I love you for what I want to love you for?
The heart and mind are so entwined with the soul.
I'm thinking and falling deeper into my unknown Lord,
All these things tear at me both inside and outside,
It hurts so bad Lord, so very bad.
You showed me today Lord, how an imperfect father loved his imperfect son.
Why haven't this mercy been given unto me Lord?
Mistakes have been made and i"m trying to make up for something I never was allowed to partake of.
Why do I continue to pay penance for something which was denied to me?
I may have been sluggish and slow then but do you punish a child for not knowing how to walk?
I love you Lord, but something's got to give.
My faith in You remains but what my soul can take may not mean my heart lays unshattered.
I hunger to know that you care Lord and that my faith makes a difference.
Bt all these are just words, just words, they fade with time and memory.
Hearts do bleed, just as real as the gash at my wrist.
Believe me that I believe in you oh Lord,

'Only fools dare hope, if we didn't have fools, the world would lack hope'

I hope, may I be fooled.