Social Extinction

Social Extinction

 

The animal in me was the animal in you

It dwelled in your veins before vanity grew.

It cast itself out, to bring its demise,

While hiding behind some shameless disguise.

 

It poaches the weak, and hides from the strong

This gentle giant indeed does no wrong.

Surviving the battle so simply mundane,

While dismay slowly pierces the brain.

 

The animal in me knows not of emotion,

While all of his brothers drown in the ocean.

Its only friend - polar extinction,

Claiming and killing every distinction.

 

The bear of the north, so proud and so brave

Slides now to the water, to stay in his grave.

With only a needle to keep him afloat,

Filled with formaldehyde, to wear as a coat.

 

The youth of today, unlike the bear,

Knows not of compassion, or how to care.

Not one person left, who lives like me,

For they all lay dormant, under the sea.

Rough Draft - The Best Day of My Life

The Best Day of My Life

These cold eyes stiffly enveloped everything he ever was, and everything he could have become. These were the eyes of a woman who was hurt- a woman who, in her own perspective, had done no wrong. Ignorance is not bliss, and her eyes made this clear. They both stood frozen in the walkway on this cold winter morning. She started blankly at him waiting for a wise crack, or a joke, but to her own demise, none would come. Her lip began to quiver, as her eyes began to water. The boy stood there reflecting on how one sentence could create such social chaos. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done.

Three minutes prior to the emotional suicide, the boy had been thinking of a way to set their souls asunder. The tension rose within, and began to foam along his tongue until he finally blurted out, “We need to break up.” At first there was a marvelous silence, as if a long war had just ended. However, it was the calm before a great calamity. At first, silence, and then a great flood, followed by an engulfing feeling of darkness and regret.

Her body began to writhe as if she had swallowed some great poison, a poison she had made the boy swallow a few times before. Once in February with a phallus shaped discussion with a third party. It happened again once more the following August, with a man, a bed, and a phrase only meant to be shared by two. This naïve boy dreamt of a life less futile and ambiguous, with more definition and delight. Although the outcome would be serine, the road there would be treacherous.

Without any knowledge on the matter, the boy apologized. Although in his mind she was the culprit, he shifted the blame onto his own shoulders to martyr his own disposition on the matter. He was his own antithesis. He pulled her close to push her away, so that she would become not a weaker woman, but a stronger one, who needn’t rely on him to support her. This sudden feeling of dismay caused a surge of emotion to erupt. With no previous exposure to such feeling, she began a bipolar sonata.

Before long, a duet of mourning began. Although it was a lesser magnitude, the boy felt as numb as his wintered exterior. The sight of her sobbing corpse was the saddest sight he’d ever seen; an overwhelming feeling of guilty held authority over him. One last kiss, as lifeless as her essence, was given, and they stumbled reciprocal.

This was the best day of his life.

Elysian lifestyle was but a short saunter away. The boy dragged his feet through the snow as to not forget the path that led him to this point. Although there were no thoughts of regret, his self-reflection was still autonomous. He had created a great sorrow for someone he once held dear, and despite the fact that his heart was placed otherwise, he still felt a level of remorse for his former lover. This melancholy struck him astonished. He was ill-equipped to deal with a problem border lining her suicide. Could ignorance bring bliss to him in such a scenario? Ignorance was irrelevant at such a time considering liberation from such a problem would be purely unfathomable.

As the snow pooled at his feet, he pulled out his phone, and began to make a phone call. Once his best friend answered the phone, he started to explain his story. “So I broke up with her.” His best friend was very intrigued. “Things just weren’t working out. I couldn’t handle the constant fighting, and the explosive mood swings- not to mention her lack of interest towards me. I mean, it’s almost as if she didn’t love me anymore, ya know? I just need to trust someone if I’m going to be with them, and I couldn’t trust her, I just couldn’t.” Irony would never shine so bright. “I think I should tell you everything. I mean yeah, what I said before was definitely a LARGE part of why I broke up with her, but there’s more. I love someone else, and she feels the same way back. I mean, she’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met, and whenever I was with my girlfriend-ex-girlfriend, I was constantly thinking about this other girl. And I mean, when someone is on your mind twenty-four seven, even on your one year anniversary, that’s gotta be love right?”

“Well, who is it?” The best friend asked. There was a lot of underlying tension in his question. A spark of unconscious jealousy arose.

“Katherine. I was reluctant to tell you anything, because I thought you might have had a bit of a crush on her, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or anything. But I just had to tell you, ya know? I had to tell someone.” At first there was silence. The friend was collecting himself.

“I did like her, but don’t worry, it wasn’t really that much. I’m glad you guys are together.” He deceived.

“Thanks man, that really means a lot. Wanna hang out today?”

“I can’t. I’m busy,” he continued with his futile deception.

“Just for like, an hour or so? What-d-ya say. Come on, I think we should all talk about this.” The boy’s naivety would surely bring about his own social self-destruction. Ignorance was not bliss.

“Alright Mav, but only for a little bit.” He unwillingly gave his liberty to Maverick to pan-handle.

As Mav walked back towards his best friend, and his newly found girlfriend, he reflected on the life altering decisions he had just made. Like a recently desceased fire, Mav still had a few cinders keeping the fire going. These small cinders of hope were all he had to keep him from collapsing into the cold wet snow, and subduing himself to mental and physical sub-zero annihilation. He just had to keep them lit long enough for someone to rekindle the feeling he needed most.

As he met her warm embrace they headed towards his friend. The meeting was more awkward then anyone could’ve perceived. As Mav stood to the side, his friend began to mentally criticize the two of them. Although his questions guised sincere, there was pure malice behind them. Mav began to speak. “There was a kiss.” All was silent. “It happened a couple of days ago, and it was the most wonderful feeling I’ve ever experienced.”

His acquaintance was disgusted, even if his face was devoid of emotion. He choked, “I’m happy for you guys. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He paused. “Don’t you think you should tell your ex?” Justice was his main concern, no matter the emotional product. Mav had a different approach.

“I think I’ve already hurt her enough for now. I’d rather tell her when she doesn’t care anymore, at least that way, she won’t be completely hurt, and she won’t have trust issues in the future, ya know?” The third party did not like this, but he nodded and disbanded.

Four days later, as the two lived there Elysian lifestyle, a phone call was received. Mav answered. A distressed voice began, “So Mav, why did you dump me? Honestly.”

Although the question bore rhetorical roots, he answered anyway. “I told you five times already, I didn’t love you anymore, and you should be with someone who does.” Sweat solidified on the palms of his hands.

Unconvinced, she continued to prod. “So it wouldn’t have anything to do with a kiss then? Why would you even lie to me? I hate her.” She cried, but her tears did not freeze. A feeling of belligerence and urgency rose underneath Mav’s cold exterior. Katherine did not deserve the inevitable forthcoming events.

“I didn’t want to hurt-“

“Bullshit Mav. Could you be honest with me just once? Just once!” Trust, the one thing he lacked in her, was the thing she desired the most. “I could tell you always liked her more than me. You were always happier with her around, and you would ignore me whenever she was around. Just stop lying, I’m done with this. Bye.” The uneasy dissonance sparked an innate rage towards his best enemy.

A confrontation was had, which lead to a heated exchange of malice and dominance leaving the antithesis victor. Justice prevailed, and it would always. As his best friend flaked away, his other friends surely followed, leaving Maverick and Katherine alone together.

 

This Thing For Writers Craft?

My Artifact Story

Today is the twenty-first of September. It’s a Wednesday, and it’s been raining like hell since last night. The streets are rivers and cars are the boats. Any man would be crazy to walk in this weather. These are the thoughts running through my head as my shirt gets hydrated. I start to consider turning back and heading home. I forget why I'm walking, and then I remember. I’m walking somewhere I really don’t want to go, school.

People are always asking me, “Gordon, why do you hate school so much,” and the truth is, I don’t really have a reason, I just don’t. Maybe it’s the fake friendships that litter the hallways, or maybe it’s the way everyone goes home and gets drunk because they’re teenagers. Maybe it’s the actual school itself, or maybe it’s just a combination. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, because in the end, I still don’t like it.

As I approach the school, I enter this stupid parking lot. It’s filled with a bunch of low budget cars I’d be too scared to drive. The saddest part is, no matter how ugly or bad a car is, girls still date the guy because of it. They just want the car. Personally, I wish they were more like this with relationships- not caring about appearances and whatnot. Still, I guarantee that, no matter what I rode to school, girls still wouldn’t talk to me. I could ride a freakin’ horse and I assure you they still wouldn’t give me the time
of day. Girls are inane like that.

Anyway, as I’m walking towards the front of the school this douche-bag accelerates right beside me and suddenly it’s like I just went for a swim. I’m more soaked then a fish in water. Due to my non-aggressive behavior, I let him have his fun. This is how I start my day.

As I slide the doors open on the school, I’m greeted by a nice, sub-zero chill. I forgot it was still summer. I honestly feel my shirt harden. I begin to make my way up a flight of stairs towards my locker, even though I don’t need anything from it. I’ve always figured, if I look like I’m busy, people will just leave me alone. I’m pretty sad and pathetic if you ask me. I open my locker up, and I see some pictures I put up in my locker to make myself look like less of a reject. I have a picture of my grandparents, and one of a random group of people I ‘googled’. I assume people will think they’re my friends. I honestly don’t know a single one of them. Gosh I’m pathetic.

Let me give you a better understanding of me as a person. I don’t really have any friends. I pretend I do so people won’t think I’m so uninteresting and lame. For instance, on Facebook, I actually created a bunch of accounts and added them as friends, just so I looked less lousy. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, he must get pretty lonely,” and you’re right, I do get pretty lonesome. But being the clever intellectual I am, I found a quick-fix. Whenever I’m feeling down or alone, I go see the latest funny movie. I’ll sit in a chair right in the center of the theatre, and I’ll wait for people to laugh, and I’ll laugh along with them. It makes me feel accepted and conformed, which is nice for a change.

Either way, I’m still friendless, so this makes every class I have extremely awkward. I walk into my first period class, and its geography. The teacher is a bit on the belligerent side if you ask me. He has this innate urge to yell at everyone whenever we breathe. It’s kind of scary to tell you the truth. The worst part is that I have to sit at the front of the classroom, all by myself praying that the teacher decides to pass me by. Luckily for me, he usually does. He’s one of those teachers that wanders around the classroom while teaching. This usually leaves me out of his sights. It’s still depressing to hear him rag on someone else though. In fact, just last week he cussed out this quiet girl who never really does anything, made me feel real horrible.

However, today I guess must be wearing something eye catching, because he starts to lay into me pretty hard. He accuses me of smiling at something, and gets real red in the face. He starts blabbering on about how geography is no laughing matter. He starts criticizing me; he points out every stupid flaw in my face, like how my eyebrows are slightly connected. He even noticed the zit or two on my jaw.
I felt pretty damn miserable from this, and I’m not sure why, so I just up and leave. I was done with this school. I go home early. My parents don’t get home till five or six, so I’m safe in that aspect, but it’s not like they’d care anyway if I was home from school early. To be honest with you, they probably wouldn’t even notice. I go up to my room and I hop onto my bed.

I really need to do something about all of this garbage at school, so I start searching around. I see some crap lying around, like a guitar, and a Nintendo. None of that is really going to help me though, maybe nothing will.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the sound of my father yelling at my mother. It eventually gets drowned by the rain. I hate rain. I roll out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom. I debate shaving my excuse for a moustache, but I leave it. I ponder showering, but I don’t really see the point. I’m just going to smell like rain anyway. I grab this little gizmo lying in my room, and check to make sure it’s loaded. I stuff it into my backpack. I’m going to need it today.

I leave my house without eating or saying a word to my parents. Once again, I get soaked, chilled, and ridiculed, but this time I’m prepared. As the teacher makes fun of my “prepubescent facial fuzz” I reach into my backpack, and start tinkering with the gadget I’d brought from home. I pull it out for a minute, and click its gray surface, just to make sure it’s working.

I wait. The teacher continues his rant. Now he’s moved onto insulting my semi-average grades in school. I show little to no interest, so he decides to attack some girl behind me. He gives her the same speech as he gave me, minus the moustache part. This really pisses me off, so once again, I get up, and exit the classroom, but this time, someone follows me. Her sobbing echoes down the hallway, and my heart.

I open the door to the office and proceed quietly to the principal’s room without as much as a passing nod to the secretary. I open the door without any regard to the principal’s privacy, and I pull the silver object out of my backpack. It’s pointed at him. He looks at me in disbelief, and I click the trigger. Suddenly a voice starts. My geography teacher’s screaming penetrates the principal’s ears. I leave the tape recorder on his desk, and I exit the office.

That girl who followed me is just sitting there sobbing. She’s fiddling with this bracelet she’s wearing. I sit down next to her and mumble, “What are you crying for?” She gives me this weird look like I’m retarded or something, so I ask again.

She starts slobbering some words at me. “He c-completely embarrassed me in front of everyone.” She begins to stutter and eventually becomes inarticulate.

“You’re pretty dumb you know.” The rain keeps falling. “I mean, well, you don’t really have anything to be sad about.” Her face becomes extremely perplexed, but I continue talking nonetheless. “I mean, you’ve got no reason to be sad at all. It’s not like anything he said was true. You’re beautiful, you’ve got friends, and you don’t have a horrible moustache. Honestly, you’re pretty dumb.” She looks at me, and gives me a hoot. Her hand graces her slobbering, wet face, and she gives me a hug. And finally, the rain stops falling.

Humanity.

Humanity, As a Whole

I dream of a world, where freedom is safe
I dream of a world, where my pants do not chafe
A Utopia for me, you, and the rest,
Where birds don’t use plastic, to build a nest

Where people can walk down the streets late at night,
And don’t have to worry about rape, or fright,
Where people have choices, to do what they want
Where people won’t argue, lie, and flaunt

We have nothing to flaunt, nothing to show
Our government lies, to bring in some dough
They’ll bring our society to an end,
Just like their forefather’s to follow a trend

What is so smart, about building our weapons,
Losing our freedoms, we’ll lose all of our pens,
Maybe our nation, less belligerent will be,
Less of a meaningless, travesty.

Who are they fooling, does anyone buy
Into their ideals they’ve shot to the sky
Humanity is hopeless, and no ones to blame
No one as a whole, but our society’s shame.

We put off our ignorance, on one another,
Every woman dreams of being a mother,
But as well all know, no dream is complete
Before they are lived, they become obsolete

Philosophers know this, and have for some time
They all sing their same songs, down to the rhyme
Their babble helps no one see light,
Future generations will poke fun out of spite.

What are we doing, what will we do
When we have machines, to tie our shoe
When we have given up our independence,
In hope of some greater, optimistic transcendence.

So when our time is tried and finished,
And all of our hopes are surely diminished
What will we say to those deceased,
To those whose morals were more than creased.

Nothing.

The Storm

The Storm

You’re all that I have left,
My life is a bass clef,
Its all low notes and pain
I’ve been left out in the rain

My soul is cold and lonely,
Make me warm, please hold me
Darkness is all I see,
Unless you’re here with me.

My being is distained
Bring me life, heal the pain
I’ll sow our hearts together,
And we’ll survive the weather.

The storm is approaching,
Engulfing us whole,
I really need you, to mend my soul

Thrashing us up as one,
Death will greet us,
Resurrection like the son,
But we must learn to trust

If we learn to trust, then we are in safety
In each others lust, we are a fierce deity

The storm is approaching,
Engulfing us whole,
I really need you, to mend my soul

We shall meet in the eye of the storm,
Whether or not we’re hurt or torn,
You save me from the morbidity
Of my own endless futility

The storm is approaching,
Engulfing us whole,
I really need you, to mend my soul

When I am finally saved,
And the storm has caved,
In upon its being
It’s only you I’m seeing.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (the chapter isn't finished yet)

My head shifts to the window of the police cruiser, and then does a 180 degree turn in attempt to view my hand cuffs. This cold chrome steel seems bound to my flesh. The thrill ride that is my head, carrying my thoughts, drops down drastically only to be caught by my shoulders. All of my thoughts dump onto the floor, leaving my mind completely blank. Once more I begin to stare out the window of the police cruiser, then to the sound proof glass dividing myself from the police.

Although I couldn’t make out what the police were saying, I had a pretty good idea of their topic of discussion. Something told me that their minds were already made up. In their minds I was a guilty murderer. Apparently I killed this Jane O’Neil, and stashed her in my basement. They must have thought the blood was hers. ‘Why didn’t I just go to the dentist’ I think to myself.
The car jerks left and my temple head butts the solid right door. My vision goes blurry and I take a nap. Thoughts of sugar plums dance through my head, as the police cruiser dances through the vacant streets that make up this city of mine.

When I awake, I’m surrounded by uniformed men, and a parking lot of cars that are only distinguishable by their license plates. “Rough ride kid?” Officer Jones says to me with this sarcastic tone of voice.

“I’ve had better.” I mumble back to him. The ride must’ve taken a while because I had sleep in my eyes when we arrived, which made the next twenty minutes or so unbearably uncomfortable. I attempt to wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and an officer yells while pointing at me, thinking I’m trying to escape. This causes officer Jones to give me a swift punch to the stomach.

“Don’t even think about trying anything, ‘cause I won’t hesitate to put you down,” His neck ripples to me. I fall to my knees when he retracts his arm. Fat sausage like fingers grip my collar in effort to give me a vertical boost, however before they can finish, Officer Sanburg lends me a helping hand. “Follow me…punk.” Jones seemed slightly defeated.

As we enter the station, papers seemed to be flying everywhere. People ran in circles, while voices chattered away on phones. “Just like clockwork,” I grumble to myself quietly. After about five minutes, we entered a dark chilling room, as stone cold as the wrestler. My hands are untied and I wipe my eyes within seconds. I let out a barely audible sigh of relief. The thoughts of questions make my forehead and underarms start to leak.

“Mr. Portovich,” Sanburg starts, “We’d like to ask you a couple of questions.” I debate asking for a lawyer, until I start to ponder movies I’ve seen. The guilty ones always ask for a lawyer. ‘I don’t really have much to tell, or a lot to say, so I don’t really seen the harm in answering their questions.’

Heres A Story.

Its not done, so umm, stfu?

Chapter 1

The tooth brush made an odd sound as its bristles rub up against my teeth, like a prostitute in a European night club rubs up against your jeans. I scrub, wash and then spit a red liquid into the sink along with a tooth. This is not a good sign at all. I frantically slam my hands to the bottom of the sink and shakily swipe my hands along its cold wet ridges attempting to grab my severed tooth. The tooth rolls around the rim of the hole in the middle of the sink sort of like a basketball around a net. It all seems to happen so slowly, but when I really think about it, it all happened in a matter of seconds.

I tongue the roof of my mouth and slowly slide my tongue to find the tooth that somehow managed to free itself from my gummy rule. To my surprise it happened to be my front tooth. “Fuck,” I sigh in disbelief. Blood splashed up onto my toes, which is what made me realize I was losing a substantial amount of blood. I quickly grab a cloth and begin to wipe up the floor. The blood began to spread all over my tiles like Paris Hiltons herpes on your cock in night vision.

I decide to make a phone call, and this call changed my life forever. I dial seven digits and a man comes to my door wielding a mop and various cleaning products. We greet each other and I lead him into my basement. I had a cloth held against my mouth to stop from spreading the mess. I manage to explain my situation about what happened through the tattered bloody rag to the cleaner. “How long ago did this happen sir? The blood is starting to crust to the tiles...” The cleaner points out.

“I don’t know, half an hour to an hour ago, I suppose. Why?” I respond with the thick accent of my blood cloth. He looks at my face puzzled. His look then shifts from my face to the floor, then again at the crimson cloth dripping fluids, held up against my face. “What is it?” I mumble.

“Why are you still bleeding sir?” He refers to me as sir, to show respect I presume. It feels weird to be referred to as an authority figure. I had always used sir towards my elders, or someone who has accomplished something great, but as far as this man is concerned, all I’ve done is lost a tooth, and a lot of blood. His words finally reach my brain. Letters form in my brain all jumbled around. I watch them take formation in my mind, and they spell out a word I haven’t thought of for a long time. He-mo-feel-ia.

The image of a man lying in a bed blurs into my mind. I’m sitting in a chair next to him while my face becomes hydrated by tears. He tells me he’ll be okay and that he just got a cut. Everything is fine. Next I see a tombstone whose only company is a bouquet of flowers. I see myself walking in the opposite direction wearing only black, once again, with tears caressing my bare jaw.

“Oh shit-“I frantically scramble around my home searching for a phone. This time I dial three numbers instead of seven. Within minutes the sound of a siren parades outside my front door. I give the cleaner around one hundred dollars and I make a break for the ambulance still binding the cloth to my face with my right hand. I explain to one of the people with the lovely white jackets about my whole situation, hemophilia and all. The ambulance stops by a nice welcoming building. As I walk through the revolving doors, I feel as if I’m being hugged.

The man cleans my house while I’m away. He washed the tiles while I’m being assisted at the hospital. He changes my life while I’m away, he changes it drastically.

Chapter 2

After the doctors pump me full of drugs and whatnot, I have a nice dream. There was a pretty field, lots of flowers, and some nice men wearing white coats wielding clip boards. It occurs to me that the last part wasn’t a dream.

“You’re finally awake.” The doctor says to me. “It turns out you don’t actually have hemophilia, and instead you popped a blood vessel while brushing.” A tear sneaks its way down my cheek, then hides in my facial scruff. The tombstone belonged to my father, you know, the one accompanied by the flowers. He died of hemophilia a few years ago. Once he died I laid dormant in my room for three weeks straight. After all of the trauma I had to withstand, the disease sort of got lost in the mix, and I never really got around to actually getting tested.

“Am I alright now?” I ask the doctor politely. His eyes evade making contact with mine. I feel perplexed and puzzled. “W-What is it?” My heart drops in my chest; do I have leukemia, a tumor, or a misplaced rib? The doctor fixes his eyes on a faded purple lamp.

With his eyes glued off of mine he mouths uncomfortably, “I guess you could say that.” The look on my face asks for more. “Well, medically speaking, yes, you’re fine.” The white coat riding the man leaves the room without a single word of departure. Two uniformed officers enter my room wielding a note pad, a starbucks coffee, and a spiffy regulation pen. They both shoot me a serious look to let me know they aren’t fooling around.

“W-what seems to be the problem officers?” I can barely spit out the sentence. Sweat begins to perspire on my forehead, and my hands begin to tremble. Thoughts of unpaid parking and speeding tickets fill my mind.

“Mr. Portovich, are you at all affiliated with a Ms. Jane O’Neil?” He takes a sip out of his coffee. His moustache soaks up the coffee like a human sponge. My eyes get lost in this bristles that make up his upper lip. A sleeve comes to greet the moustache; ‘hello’ the sleeve says to the moustache. Before my mind fabricates a funny children’s joke, my attention is recaptured by the phrase, “Answer the question Mr. Portovich.”

“T-the name sounds familiar, but I don’t really recall. I’m sorry if I’m out of line here, but why do you ask…sir?” I wipe the salty moisture from atop my forehead. The officer shows me the photograph of a mangled body and I freeze like rain in winter. My muscles tense up and I almost throw up. “Is that Ms. Jane O’Neil?”

The overweight, clean shaven officer says all sarcastically, “Wow, nothing gets by you. Listen punk, we took this picture in your house.” He explains that the maid I had hired stumbled across this body while cleaning my house. Thoughts begin to fill my head. Did this cleaner start trying to loot my house while I was away, or did he in fact commit the crime itself? “We wanna know everything you’ve been doing for the past week- no month! You got that kid?” I lose my mind in this man’s third neck. It flops to and fro in synchronization with the words he speaks, like an exotic belly dance. “You even listenin’ to me?!”

I glance down at his badge. “Listen officer umm-“I tense up readying a sturdy tongue lashing. The plump man spoke with a New Jersey-esque accent.

His neck beings to writhe, “I’m Officer Jones, and this here is Officer Sanburg, but you can just call me Jesus fucking Christ to save time...punk.” My mind begins to deliberate a funny saying to respond to this man with. I don’t really take him too seriously due to how easily he sparks up.

“I-Isn’t that more syllables?” I stutter at Officer Jones. My mouth has gotten me into trouble before, however never something as serious as this. His neck begins its ritual.

“Eh Lou, we got a funny guy here. You know what we do with funny guys right?” Jones says to Sanburg. He called him Lou; a first name basis, ‘how cute’ I think to myself. “Looks like you’re gonna come with us. Maybe you could come see our house? How does that sound to you Portovich? Good?” My look answers his question. “I don’t really care ‘bout what you think to be frank. You better put on something warmer, ‘cause it’s real cold out, punk.”

As I join the police for a silent ride, thoughts of my house being quarantined start to chip away at my chance of redemption. There was no hope, I was framed, set up, but why.

The Prision (Poem)

'Sup guys. Yeah I know its fucking wednesday, but whatever, I had stuff to do, so I didn't post monday or tuesday. To make up for it, tomorrow I'll post TWO posts. So yes, sit tight for that. Also there probably won't be a post thursday because I'm taking some ME time. So yeah, dont' miss me too much. If you DO in fact miss me a lot, then just head on over to my youtube channel: www.youtube.com/theboogerhumper. No it's not porn. So anyway, without further ediou, my latest poem:

The Prison

I miss the freedom I once had
Now it’s passed, like an old fad
The feeling of liberty, I’m losing my sanity
Without your presence, my mind screams, “Vanity”
It is not my freedom, of which is restricted
While instead it is yours- my soul feels enlisted
Into an army of loathing and hatred,
My love is forever incarcerated.

My life feels so pointless, so futile, so empty,
When you’re not around, my life’s a calamity.
Constricting me behind the bars of joy,
I’m a child, just a boy with no toy,
My life feels forever like an endless ploy.

So once again I’m left waiting for you,
Hoping you feel for me, as I do you.

You remain locked away by your hierarchy,
I remain here dieing, please come save me,
From this life that feels so obsolete
I run on forever, but am no athlete
Heal our love, make it less oblique
I do detest I am no sheikI’tempt not to woo you, make you feel special
But instead just to tell you, I am going mental.

I fell so alone, I feel so afraid
Misery triumphs, just like a parade
Please help me end this longing charade.

I’ll have you know I’d wait forever,
I may not stay sane though, however,
If you are not set free soon,
My mind, my heart, shall meet their doom.

The Stalker

Hey guys, sorry it's been a while, but lately I've been experimenting with poetry. So here's one I wrote which I found kinda funny.

The Stalker

When I lay in the bushes I’m watching your face,
Hoping that your painful can of mace
Remains holstered in your lovely bag,
Because mace always makes me gag

You’ve looked at me once or twice,
And let me tell you- that felt nice.
I lent you a pencil during bio,
You kept it but I don’t mind no.

I’d give you my lunch everyday,
And no, I would not ask for pay,
But instead for your hand in love,
But I know you’ll always shove.

You’ll push me away ‘till the end of time,
Denying me this feeling so sublime.
However, forever I’ll wait for thee,
To join and finally complete me.

I know that I am best for you,
And I think you’d like my company too
If you’d just accept me once,
Think of me more than just a dunce.

I know about your past and present.
I know that you’re chaste and pleasant.
I know that on you’re fifteenth birthday,
All you’re friends thought you were gay.

I know that you play with your hair.
I know you love the smell of nair.
I know you’ll never go to bed
Without vomiting from your head.
I know that you think you’re fat,
I could just be as blind as a bat,
But you seem perfectly fine to me,
So maybe I’ll just never see.

I wish that when you looked at me,
You felt as I did towards at you.
To feel this- incapacitating emotion of glee,
But your eyes are fixed off me by glue.


PS. Next week is gonna be a poetry week. So wait up for three more posts.

Who Am I?

Who Am I

I stared into the mirror at myself with a feeling of futility. Every thought, every ideal, every god damn belief I ever harbored was fornicated by the long cock of reality. I was nothing more than some fucking living corpse, a doll with a soul, defining the term living with a heartbeat. But a heartbeat isn’t life; there’s so much more to it than that.

Acceptance. It was something I struggled a lot with when I was younger. I always bought new things, changed my desires, and morphed my personality accordingly to hopefully get the slightest bit of recognition, just the slightest feeling of approval from her. And one day, it finally did, I finally got the look I longed so long for and after that, it was like a drug. I needed it more and more, so I tried harder and harder to get her blessing, and you know, sometimes I actually would get it, and it would mean the world to me.

My changes became more and more drastic; I kept trying to trump my last attempt. Before I knew it I was a completely different person; and yet I was a person she loved. A kiss from her sealed my feelings away, locked them in a cage; froze whatever doubts I had. The old me was gone, and the new me remained supreme. And I didn’t miss the old me either, all I cared about was her affection.

However everything comes to an end, and I wish I would have realized this before I dumped my old persona in the trash. Eventually her affection grew tiresome as did my persona. I made my attempts, but nothing seemed to impress- she needed a new mint to freshen up her life- and before I knew it, she was gone.

I stared blankly into this mirror wondering, who the fuck am I, and what the hell am I doing? I stepped into the bathtub, the waters temperature matched the feelings of my innards; cold like a winters day. My skin became numbed and eventually I could not move. Bubbles started popping off the surface of the water as my head slowly laid itself to rest at the bottom of the bathtub. 

Who Am I..