The Universe

Let’s take a moment to consider the universe. It’s all encompassing and yet completely separate. Everything is me. All that has ever been or is are funneled through me. Anything that will be doesn’t exist if I don’t exist. Isn’t that beautiful and terrible. I am the gardener of this world. If I remove the energy from those that poison me they lose all their power. I pluck all of their little lilacs of vitriol. But as I shear, the petals become mulch to feed the Vitex that is me. This cruel tree that is the core of my mind. It’s branches are neurons that fire a creeping self loathing into my soul. Try as I might I can not separate myself from it’s roots. My fingers bloody from clawing at the dirt around it’s base I stare up at the budding flowers of my being exhausted and defeated. I can not cure myself of this pain without ending the universe.

Just being a mess

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to be dead
Can’t you take a clue

I just want to choke and die because one of my biggest flaws is that I always make myself my feel all the things that hurt. I know what was it was like to lose you way before we ever broke up as kids. I’m all too familiar to being too into what’s not into me. I’m, always the one to reach out first and put myself out there but never cool enough to hold back and let good things come to me. Stare in a mirror and realize I’m physically weaker than I was five years ago. I’m heavier, I have less hair. The small physical reasons to die are adding up like extra rounds in a revolver. I’ll never grow taller or be a lot smarter. I’m falling farther and farther and farther from all the things that I made to mean me. I’m holding myself back because I’m afraid of not being successful. I hate myself because I was never honestly loved as a kid or even if I was I was so preoccupied with making sure I knew that it was all a lie to ever feel it. I can’t tell if I’m the demon or if he’s in me holding all these memories above my head like a hangman’s post. Laughing and pulling this noose around my neck with my eyes closed tears slipping past those pathetic gates that couldn’t see my worth even if it was wrapped in a chest of glitter and gold. My eyes are closed as I write this because I can’t bare to see if I’m breaking through or being left behind. If I can’t let me live then why won’t I kill me. Why won’t I let me kill myself. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to love you, me. So why can’t you learn to breathe easily.

where i met the road

you’re all so kind
you have convinced me that i have nothing to hide
it’s an exciting new affliction
what do you think

can you see that we’re so blind
choke on it, yeah, down that cyanide
express to me with all that conviction
bring me to the brink

burn baby, corrupt my mind
i love it, i’d definitely let you ride
we only live once so fuck restriction
capped with a smile and a wink

but my own love i couldn’t find
she’s so lost, i hope she hasn’t died
gurgle out her last respects, giving into my constriction
i killed my own love so this hate i shall drink

Dust Sandwiches

There are men who have more money than there are people in the world. Crazy.


I wonder if those whales that can live up to two hundred years ever get bored.


If animals are capable of verbal or visual communication, do they have curse words/signs?


Do crabs feel pain when dropped into boiling water?


I want to swim next to a Blue Whale so I can get perspective on life.