Multiple

– How Do I Care?

Your words ring hollow
Like nothing at all
Your mind looks shallow
Like a fucking cheap doll

I thought it was different
A better direction
But it isn’t pretty
A zitty complexion

I’ve been wrong before
But with things less important
I read you like a book
But I was seeing distortion

The mirror a fabrication
An image created within
How the fuck do I care?
I don’t know where to begin

I try to be positive
But find myself in fire
So how the fuck to care?
What exactly is required?

All I see is trash
Wrapped around skeletons
I want to see the flash
Endless megatons

Fuck all humanity
Even what’s inside of me
The cancer needs cut free
No one deserves to be

I used to hope
For the good I dared
Even against the ropes
Now I can’t fucking care
There’s nothing there
A dry socket
Launch the rockets
Melt the pain away

– Black At Noon

Back and forth
Glance at the screen
The mind a fire
Burning all I’ve seen

Back and forth
The sun up high
The air is still
The demons cry

Back and forth
The swing moves on
The child smiles
All hope is gone

Back and forth
To keep that joy
As hundreds die
The drones deploy

No sun I can see in the skies above
No life I can live or truth I can love
While I push my body to action for her
No shadows around as my life is a blur

All shapes are black and outlined in grey
Nothing has texture and night here as day
I wait for my pulse to stop so I can get away
My life already over but I still need to stay

Back and forth
a breeze comes through
she giggles and moves her hair aside
as i fake a smile and wait to die

– Dying Outward

the dark within
rotting up through the skin
making my heart slow down
and my mind speed up
while unable to give a fuck

i look around town, driving down
to pick up the next person
who might make me forget for a second
laughing and talking about the world
that i forget i am not interested in
while we laugh and move forward within

i try to slow the expansion
but my heart, soul, bones, all gone
no matter what i’ve done
my skin is eating away next
and i’ll finally have gone away
right in front of your eyes
and finally i’ll be over

the vibrating sounds
and deafening silence
march onward through time
as i flirt with crossing the line
from here to where there is nothing
to match my hopes and dreams
drown out these screams with explosions
disappear and leave few traces
that anyone will notice, anyway

all the things i want to complete
as my entire being gets eaten
one after another abandoned
and the rest left half finished
as i close books and bury bones
gave up on finding my way home
as dreams are realized as dreams
and reality is seen through the surface
a lie tied to a brick, at the bottom

it’s all in front of us
throughout our lives
while they point to the skies
as we’re pulled down by lies
hope drowns soon enough
and every time i give a fuck
the aids seeps in
and the destruction advances
my feet were in the water
now so far overhead
but i can’t seem to die

– Talking To The Dead

hello there
don’t fake a smile
your age shows around your eyes
i let out a deep sigh

i’m awake again.
the dream wasn’t any better
but if my heartbeat could have stopped
i could have gone to what’s next

but there you are
need to take a shower
maybe i’ll black out
crack my head open
bleed out on the floor

go grab the gun across the room
push it into your jaw, go boom
you are a cancer among the rest
departing any way would be best

just walk.
take a shovel.
you know remote desert a couple days away
just load the food to get you there
and bring your gun
let’s set out and have some fun

find a nice deep place
erase, erase, erase
don’t give them a bill, a corpse
let nature take its course
and erase, erase, erase

just leave a note
fuck you all
i hate the world
and i’m going
promise you’ll be dead this week
don’t come looking, it’s done, i’m gone

they’re all dead to me anyway
so much of the country i used to admire
may as well be swept away by fire
and maybe something better will grow
but there’s no hope to throw
in direction of unbelievable shit like that

food for the animals
let them eat well for a little while
assuming they find what’s left
after the bullets tear it apart
but it’s a start
no need to stay here
the future is clear
the end of a flushed toilet
sweeping us down the drain
into a river of piss
human life has come to this

i guess i’ll take a shower

Thirty-Five

I never expected to live to thirty-five
I anticipated death with bleeding eyes
Cold and alone while none realized
Nobody remembering me to eulogize

Every year beyond that a free play
While self-hate within a stowaway
My brain churns in radioactive decay
Ignoring I feel I’ve overstayed

I watch from the outside
As inside I feel the backslide
I’ve never once felt qualified
Regardless of victories identified

Everything I finish I find total shit
All praise I see as counterfeit
I see all compliments fully unfit
Though feigned acceptance I emit

A surprise addition to the equation
Gives me forward moving persuasion
A truly compelling dissuasion
A seriously unbelievable occasion

But none of that seems to have mattered
My soul still longs to be shattered
My blood still hopes to be splattered
Regardless of the pitter-patter

I focus on wearing my mask
While quietly killing my flask
Trying to succeed in each task
Doing whatever it is they ask

 

Categories: SoN

Cyclic Thinking

this infinite machine inside of me
fucking everything thoroughly
no matter who i try to be
it rages on destructively

I need and bleed and read and plead
but total shit keeps flooding me
it clogs my mind and wrecks my soul
it drains my heat and leaves me cold

in times of desperation
my pistol looks delicious
in times of abjuration
my hope becomes fictitious

all traces of progress gone
i’m back in initial footprints
it’s the same thing
the same thing
the same thing
the same thing
nothing new to bring

nobody has anything new
it’s all been done that was to do
and now they’re following you
you can not grasp you’re deeply screwed

but we still have to try
when the well runs dry
we start the fire anyway
and the dust bowl begins

same as it always has
with cell phones and group homes
as it will always be
infinite debt and mechanical loans

Categories: SoN

Welcome to Life

ashes in the soil
a heart full of hope
life up through a coil
a neck squeezed by rope

kill them all for food
death must fuel the living
rise above the good
win the duel, keep moving

the millions spoiled
for the glory of a few
the workers toiled
for the comfortable you

for one to win many must lose
destroy them all for that revenue
the terrors for that phone you use
squeeze in the alleys to open the avenue

gather the roast
murder the slaves
let’s have a toast
reuse their graves

take their heirlooms
melt them for gold plating
empty out their rooms
we need space for ice skating

destroy the last
pour the blood in
whitewash the past
as the tires spin

it’s all you can eat
throw scraps at your feet
the yacht is my treat
our lackeys we beat

evict all the families
for vacation facilities
disregard the casualties
cut off their utilities

from their pain our pleasure rises
they should have had backup jobs
they don’t need tvs in bigger sizes
those pathetic lazy slobs

let us light up a cigar
and wave at them from afar
as they faint from fatigue
at least we made them leave

Categories: SoN

Infinite Machine

born and killed
alive and dead
everything always
inside my head

deja vu
through and through
footprints match
you and you

groundhog’s day
but i can’t stay
won’t go that way
can’t throw my pay

never again
but every time
nothing clever
my every crime

imagination
contamination
revelation
lonely nation

love shown out
hate punched in
hope like mold
lust my sin

born and killed
alive and dead
everything always
inside my head

the clone was born
i hide the scorn
my soul is torn
but will she learn?

from my mother
through my mind
and my sister
and my daughter

will the second?
can she evade?
will it wreck her?
will it invade?

the circle
i can’t escape
i stare it down
it’s never late

pain perfectly focused
it strips my bones clean
muddies up everything
an infinite machine

i tell myself
i hide behind black
i promise myself
i’m not coming back

i’ve never even left here
i’m weighted firmly down
miles beneath the surface
and i cannot seem to drown

born and killed
alive and dead
everything always
inside my head

everyone is better
and i am the worst
reality is bitter
but i deny it hurts

it comes up from within
it’s heartless and mean
burning under the skin
an infinite machine

it can’t be stopped
i’ve tried for years
both ends the same
a stream of tears

an infinite machine
i scream and scream and scream
an infinite machine
i wish this was a dream
an infinite machine
a standing corpse with a smile
an infinite machine
a sentence without a trial
an infinite machine
it goes on and on forever
an infinite machine

A New Section

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The first long form story I ever wrote was called Human Blood.  It was about a group of friends who got recruited by angelic forces to go up against an evil force that was about to reach great powers on earth. It had a cliffhanger type ending I was proud of.

The original idea was to be in three parts.

The Beginning and First Encounters
The rise of the full evil form, followed by chaos.
The final destruction of the evil form.

The problem I always had though, was how the second and third would be split.  And actually, a much bigger problem, I wanted a huge amount of backstory on a few of the characters on the good side of things.  I had a lot of it in my head, but none on text.

The first draft was 46 pages. It wasn’t much, but it was just a scribbled down idea of what was in my head. When I went to rewrite it, the first 4 words turned into 64. A describing what was in my head at the time I wrote it. This was such an expansion, it scared me. There were sentences I knew would turn into various paragraphs because of how thin I ran through things that first pass. This was before I added multiple layers of character development and whole chapters of new scenes fleshing things out.

So, after the 4 words turned into 64, I set it down and never picked it up again. In fact, I don’t have the actual first draft anymore in any form. I loaned it to somebody after a very embarrassing day. Summer doesn’t even remember the day, much less any notebook or anything that was written in it. Probably for the better.

Off and on since that period in the late 90s, it’s been running around my brain from time to time. The other night I was thinking about it so much, I had to jot down possible plot structure for 3 books. I shifted the 2nd and 3rd from before into just the 3rd, put the 1st as the 2nd, and have a lot of back history and buildup in the first. now it makes sense, where before it was almost entirely questions.

So, since work is shifted that way, I’m adding it to the framework here.
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Medication




When I was 10? 11? I was put on medication for Epilepsy. With that, they also put me on medication to attempt better control of my behavioral disorders my family and schools had been dealing with over the years.

At some point, they had tried so many combinations that weren’t working, they pulled me back into the hospital for a month to try some others. One, they sent me home because they needed a bed for a week. I went right back the next day because I was sleep walking and my mom found me in the garage. I was at or younger than 12.

After that I ended up in lockup for a few years because of a stupid decision that had a consequence my friend and I somehow didn’t foresee. While in lockup I was recreationally trashing a kitchen when I saw a door opening. I went to slam it and had not seen the arm put between the door and the frame to keep it from shutting.

Putting an arm in the door, with me being the one going off, was a safe gamble. All the staff that knew me, knew I wouldn’t hurt anybody. But, I didn’t see it. Since their wrist was terribly bruised, they had to press 3rd degree assault charges on me so their insurance would cover it.

Before I turned 17 I had worked my way out and was back home. When I turned 18 I was told I could make my own decisions and get off medication. I wanted to, to see how I handled it. I figured I had made so many advances from the lowest while I was in prison, to the highest I felt when I was quickly expanding friends in highschool.

In hindsight, that was a horrible mistake. It went well during my highs but my lows were lower than I remembered and sometimes lasted months. I dropped even further into depression after a horrible breakup (which was entirely my fault, I fully admit) just before my 19th birthday (end of 1999). While I was still trying to get through that part of my mind fighting me, at the end of 2001 it wasn’t much better. I ended up developing agoraphobia which persisted until roughly 2004.

Mid 2004 through mid 2014 was better as I was pouring myself into everything I’ve done art-related. The more projects I threw myself into and the more games I lost myself in, the better I was doing.

As 2014 moved I started panicking because I estimated there was about 50 hours of stuff I would ideally like to do each day. Even if I never slept again, clearly that left me 26 hours short. Yes, I mapped out how much time each thing would take, and how much free time I had and tried to pick things I most wanted to do, so I felt better about my to do list vs. my free time.

Then, about a month after I was getting in the swing of ignoring those which didn’t make the cut – the wife informed me she seriously wanted to have a kid.

As anyone should know, a kid = death of free time. So this essentially kicked the legs out from under everything I had built to keep me out of the morass I had been in from 1988-2004. And it has only gotten worse since.

So now I’m looking back to medication – which hopefully will start a week from tomorrow. I’ve been trying to push myself to even schedule an appointment with a psychologist.

In september of 2014 I went to my GP and he put me on a pill I can not remember the name of, but it was great. The insurance company wouldn’t fund it without me playing phone tag every month so they switched me to Effexor. Effexor was a nightmare. So in May 2015 I finally couldn’t take it anymore and researched how to pull myself off the medicine. I slowly dropped dosage by counting out the pebbles individually so I was taking 3 less per pill. Sure, it took about a month and a half to fully ween off it, but it finally worked.

I went back to trying on my own but closing in on the two year anniversary of pulling myself back off, as I said, I feel it is absolutely essential to try again.

I don’t know how many pills I’ve tried over the years but I’m hoping I can gravitate towards one that will work out.

Just wanted to slap this up for future reference. I might write up a more detailed accounting of my time jumping around group homes, psych wards and the 7 months I spent in Eldora (kiddie prison) .. It was an interesting time for me because it was essentially pushing boundaries and observing processes and humans around me.




Depression

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Depression is a topic I usually try to avoid.  I don’t know how people with no arms and no legs handle it, but I would imagine they tend to prefer never bringing it up as it’s something they have to deal with day in and day out anyway, so why compound it with conversation about it?

When I was still single digits in age I was diagnosed with Epilepsy.  I was placed on Depakote (spelling?) to try to offset it. Unfortunately, though, I started showing more and more of the side effects listed.  I believed this was the cause of this for most of my life.

One day in the 2000s, I forget when exactly, I was called to mom’s house by my sister. I drove over and asked what was going on and she said mom had gone outside in near freezing temperatures and hadn’t come back in.  Apparently she had seen me pull in because she was entering the back door as my sister was describing what was going on.

I asked mom why she was outside and she said “because I just wanted to feel something.” Everything inside me panicked because I had been battling depression for so long and holding it in for so many years I never expected to hear something I’ve thought countless times come out of my mom’s mouth.  Through the course of that evening, listening to her vent, I started realizing everything coming out of her was verbatim with what I had been fighting inside myself over the decade prior.

I talked to my sister some years later about that and she opened up, too.  Not sure if she was drunk, or what. She said a lot and that wasn’t very typical of her. And hers matched as well.  At one point I had analyzed a lot of information I had collected of my sister’s and my at the time 12 year old’s, and recognized these exact same patterns and thoughts existed in both.

Today I saw a post online – reflected here – that brought a lot of this back up above the surface. it’s always there, and i’m usually ignoring it and or dealing with it on one level or another. but to see something so blatantly ignorant on the topic hit me.  i try not to make it a habit to let facebook crap trigger stuff, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

I’m going to try to do all I can to equip my newborn with everything she needs, including support, to deal with what seems to be clearly genetic. That’s all I’m comfortable with saying at this moment.  Sorry if your time feels wasted.  Was not the intent.

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