Quote of the Day:

“Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”
-T.S. Eliot

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out the door
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Pain and the Frail Gifts from a Forked Tongue

If feelings can be ripped, torn and destroyed
then why do they persist to nag my heart?
Such lies, such pain, such frailty of conviction
and I morn this loss?

A fool and bastard I am,
of every sense
cut off and rejected,
thrown back to the pile of filth
and hate that courses through my veins.

Do you see this blood,
the sins of my past
passing and moving in shadows
crying out to I,
a cry that I should cut
and let blood pour
staining this grass
that has been my bed
in these stages of delirium.

Do you know hast?
Do you know hate?
Frailty that reeks
of a stench of rottenness
that all I ever was told
were mere lies,
pleasing to the speaker
and knives which rake upon my heart,
such a dark and deprave coal
that is no thing more than I.

Do you see this tripe,
this disgusting
verbose vomit?

I am but a creep
such a lowly insect
with a festering wound
just out of my reach.

Can I blame a nymph
for her sins
of being as she is?

Tis unbecoming of a man
to blame problems on others
when the problem was me
and all I can say is I will stand
and might die with dignity,
dignity that left the house of my father
and here I am.

Blood that is mud in my veins
and horror upon horror,
I know not the story
nor can I handle it.

I wish to be more, be more than I am
but it is nothing you will see
for my heart is closed.
This demon seed has been planted
and it crystallizes
and become a diamond.

Rough, hard, unbreakable
for your tendrils have grown deep
and all that I pull
makes the pain worse
and soon you will have a marker
if you care to dance upon
the tomb that will hold
these rotting bones.

Hold a mirror up
maybe hold it close
to see the bones under the makeup
and hollow the promises of a woman are made
such vain lies
I ate and dined on
for I believe the impossible
forgetting that fantasy
will never be reality.

Trust,
faith,
honor,
respect
such laughable terms
amounting to nothing more
than diarrhea of the mouth,
such a revolting pile of shit
that I only have myself to blame for.

I crushed and destroyed bridges
just for something that was a lie.

Bitter?
I?
Nay, just one whose virgin eyes
were ripped open
by the gaping hole in my soul
and for daring
to open my heart to such fables,
such indiscriminate lies.

Look closely,
count the vowels
and see the pain in every symbol
every frail postulate
as it may be my last.

These words must burn,
must face the fire of correction
for the only fool as me
in and out
in and out
and soon to say goodbye.

Do not blink
for you may miss my exit,
crashing and burning
and unable to cope
with how harsh reality is
and shall ever and forever be.

It is, it is.
Thank you for it,
thank you for the pain
because I feel grace
where I would not have.
You ripped me apart
calling my life sin
and demonstrating
every fault
and every sin
making me see
and feel why humanity
should be purged,
ripped from our place.

Why such games?
Such a Divine Madman
holds back
not destroying us
and yet here we are.

Goodnight, good bye
and fare well.
Do not let the door hit you
as you leave
and know there is no return
and never a second chance.

This heart is closed.
A diamond forged
from the pressures and pain.
See the caricature you created
but do not touch the strings,
they are nothing more
than rusted barb wire,
created in the tumble and fall from grace
and rusted from the bitter hot tears
I was told to never share.

Good riddance to a waste of space,
farewell to my ocuping this pain.
I do not want this
and refuse to carry it any more.

Shadow boxing
and fighting my own shadow
because I am who I am.

I can handle being single
because I have to.
I refuse to lead others on
and crush them and treat them
as play things
just to increase my self worth
and because I can stand the silence.

Having my dad and grandmother
ripped from me
by distance, disease and death
just made me darker
made me more silent
and forced me to abandon the lie
that the good people get rewarded.

We will stand, fight
and die horrible deaths.
Not for a stupid gold road
or mansions
but to be held and have our tears wiped away
by one bigger
so much more beautiful than you can know.

Pain is what opens the path to God,
sin costs blood
and I would bleed all of mine now
just to be closer
to feel the love I scarcley believe is true.

Maybe in several thousand years
of healing
of pergutory
and grace making me new
I can look in your eyes and not feel pain,
not see the rejection
and contempt for the bastard I am.

Goodnight,
farewell,
let the pain be as it will be
for I am who I am.

Broken, bloodied and dying
but more alive now
than I ever was.