It’s Not Brain Surgery…

Hurt By Myself

I wanna run!

Keep my head down.
Keep the body awake.
Find a way out.
My life is at stake!

Break the ankles now.
Throwing the shackles away.
Shake fleas from the doubt.
There’s fuckin’ nothing to say!

I wanna run!
I wanna run!
I wanna run!

Flee the panic, the pain.
Haven’t slept in a year.
Don’t know how I got stained.
With blood that’s not even real!

Don’t know where I have been.
There’s nowhere to turn.
As the walls they close in.
Sweat floods in the eye.
Can’t see from the burn.

I wanna run!
I wanna run!
Away from here!

And how this darkness found me.
Within these blinding halls.
And as the stones are thrown.
Collapse into debris.
And with each bruise.
I find an excuse.
Right straight through the bone.
I regain the memory.
I’m so confused!

I wanna run!
I try to run!
Away from here!
I try to run!
Just disappear!
I wanna run!

Strapped to this bed, now!
Keep my eyes down!
Glued to another syringe!
Cannot be convinced!
(I wanna run!)
I checked myself in!
(I tried to run!)
Until I saw for myself!
(I wanna run!)
The lines with my name!
(Away from here!)
I signed with my own hand!

I Belong here!


Written: 10.25.2019

Don’t tell me how to feel.
Like I don’t know how to grieve.
I’ll tell you when I’m over it.
The nausea’ll pass over.

But I need you, to need me too!
I need this to bleed!
I need you to breathe, for me!
And I am.
And you are.
A false impression, dragging me down!

I think I might have blurred my trends again.
I think I’m being, just a little petulant.
Just need to embrace my sins.
And let it all begin again.

Cross the river.
Rebuild the bridge.
Drop to my bloody knees.
Beg for my redemption.
Or die singing in perfect pitch.

Of an empty vessel?
A paranoid delusional shell?
Phobic and fucking unloved?

Why do I hate me?!
And I refuse your love?
Have I confused my inner twin?
Is it only Ego and Id?

Am I cursed?
Am I blessed?
You’re not impressed.
You know I can fucking tell!

I’ve disappointed again.
And I am sorry.
Please forgive me!
Mourning Glory.

Get out of my way!
I need air to breathe!!
Vermicide’s release!

I’m out of my head.
Better off dead.

I need a minute…
Just one minute…

Now, now I’m ready.

Had a muscle flinch, pulled the knife out,
then I slit my wrist, watched it pour out,
on the bathroom mat, not like you’ll notice,
I’m just a gutter rat!

Roll over watch the light fade!
I remember every fucking word you said to me!
All the abuse, from the fist to my face!
That’s why I’m lying here, with a razor in the fucking

Clean up my fucking mess this time!
All the clots, from the main line!
I’m not giving in!
I’ll tear the sutures out, inch by fucking inch!

I’ve taken your shit for too long.
Self-destruction, there ain’t nothing wrong!
I won’t be your sheep!
Wait until you sleep!
Head high, wrist clinched, and I’m in too deep!!

Take a crimson digit, scrawl it on the wall.
It was written in your name after all!
In a coffin or in a ditch, this mistake,
this life, I’ll bleed ’til the last twitch!

On my own terms, ask the rope burns!
They’re the third degree!
There’s only one way out, you’re not murdering me!
You sloven fat pig, what was wrong with me?!
Fucking you was bestiality!

I need a minute!
I need the fucking sleep!
Okay, I’m steady!
Get the guest room ready!
I’m finally ready!

Cross the river.
Rebuild the bridge.
Drop to my bloody knees.
Beg for my redemption.
Or die singing in perfect pitch!

Hunted By The Angels..

I wasn’t bullied or abused as a kid so my intense self-loathing and inward hatred has to come from somewhere, from something.

There are some places you know you just do not belong but yet you’re there anyway and you have no memory or recollection as to how you arrived whatsoever. How did I get here?

You’re born and then some people make decisions and choices and actually swim somewhere and I’m not entirely different. I make decisions. I make choices. Where I differ is that I have no control over where I’m swimming. My entire life has been perpetually caught in an oceanic undertow. I keep swimming and it takes me wherever it wants to.

I have full control over my decisions but it doesn’t seem to matter. You just hang there in limbo, pummeled and violently thrown head over foot, slowly suffocating but you went into the ocean didn’t you? Why? You knew the risks but you chose anyway because what’s the worst that could happen. You’re waist deep. In control.


You’re not.

We amble through the redundancies of daily life like zombies, lured in by success, fame, money and ego and we don’t even realize that nothing fucking matters. Existence is an undertow. Life throws you wherever it wants to and by the time you realize that you’re either on death’s doorstep or it’s too late to do anything about it. Not that you could anyway.

Power means nothing. Our possessions own us and credit scores and criminal records are Scarlet Letters we will never be able to remove. You can’t please anyone. You can’t make anyone happy either and that dependence or co-dependence on the approval of others bends you to its will.

People come and go from day to day. Some die young and society always says the same trite things. “Taken from this world too soon!”, “A bright flame extinguished!”

Says you.

No one can ever know where a person will end up in life. You think Hitler’s parents ever foresaw their child’s future turning out like that?

God is not perfect. I don’t care what anyone says about that. You can’t blame everything on sin, the Devil or choices because sometimes people are just trash and I think God needs to own up to their mistakes. If God made us in his image, what kind of God is he??

Think about this; merely touching the spinal cord lightly can paralyze a human being permanently. Is God that fucking fragile too?

It doesn’t matter how saintly a person can be for them to trip, fall down an uncovered sewer grate and die. That’s God’s plan? Really?? Happenstance, coincidence and accidents are God’s immaculate plan for Sewer Guy?

Then what’s the fucking point of being alive if everything is in God’s hands. If it’s all predestined and basically scripted, why should I give a shit about other people or other things or politics or even be a good person to myself??

I don’t like the notion of being a Sim in God’s video game.

“But, if you commit suicide you go to Hell!”

Says the bible…sort of. And why do you go to Hell? Because you took control out of God’s hands and fucked up his simulation? So, then if we all have free will, it shouldn’t matter. Now, killing one’s self seems more like a punishment than free will.

No. Go ahead and rationalize it for me. I’ll wait…

No. I’m Not Alright…

How do you communicate to people that you’re not suicidal but don’t want to live anymore?

I know that’s a coarse question to start off with so, let me back up a second.

I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to kill myself. I just don’t want to live anymore. See what I mean? It’s confusing. I’ve tried three times to kill myself already in my lifetime and have either changed my mind or failed. In those cases I was copping out, running away but I’m older and wiser and I know my situation isn’t going to change or suddenly become bright and shiny so, I’m not copping out and running away, I’ve already faced most of my demons and just no longer see the point.

Darkness has always lived in me. I was born into it and I’ve spent more than four decades trying to navigate that darkness and somehow manage to like myself there, let alone love myself in it.

My problems are not really all that different than others and in many cases are far smaller but, you know when you’re watching a movie and about halfway through, you know it’s a shite movie and you’re done, so, you turn it off. That’s where I’m at. I’m done. I don’t like this movie and I would like to turn it off.

I have a medical condition that leaves me in constant physical pain. I live around the clock in depression, severe anxiety and PTSD from a former abusive marriage where I was controlled, emotionally assaulted, physically battered and ultimately raped repeatedly. My ex is responsible for me losing two years of my life after our divorce because of false charges that landed me in jail, before I was exonerated.

My Mother is nearing her finish line, no matter what I try. I’m not running away from that as I’ve lost friends and family to suicides, car wrecks, overdoses, etc. all my life. My job requires me to work with women and children that have been stabbed, abused, raped and almost murdered on a daily basis. That job also requires me to deal with some of the people involved in their abuses. That job is a 24/7 job too and has taken what little emotional depth I had remaining and drained it barren but I’m lucky, in America’s economy to have a job.

America is another issue. We’ve become decadent, psychotic trash and the Republican Party is at the root of it but all we can do is vote? Yeah, nah.

Sure, I have my passport now and could leave this fucking shithole country but will it do any good?

Truth be told, yeah, I’m pretty fucking lonely. I’m not looking for sympathy. It is what it is. Would I like friends that live close enough to be social with on a frequent basis. Yeah, sure.

It’s not a matter of sex either. I’ve been Asexual since my marriage a decade ago and I simply have no interest in it. Would I like to have the company of the opposite sex on a consistent basis. Yes, I would, if I’m honest but it’s highly unlikely.

I’m in a progressive metal band and I love my bandmates like family and while we get along better and tighter than we ever have, I just cannot find the joy in recording music anymore and that makes me feel horrible because they are high as a kite about it. My voice isn’t what it used to be 20 years ago. The technology is different and I don’t feel like learning it. Their talents have grown and improved and I’ve regressed and I’m really not worth anything to them anymore.

I’ve always been a fighter, a survivor. There just comes a time when you can’t physically and emotionally fight anymore. Like, you literally just collapse and I’m at that point.

No, the Pandemic of COVID-19 didn’t help but I was rapidly retreating inward before then and I don’t know if I’m having a psychotic break or if I’ve already had one but…I’m just ready for the nightmare to be over…