2 Weeks Weak

2.18.00 01:00

Have you ever lie awake all night—not just for a night, but for weeks at a time? Never knowing what was real and what was a dream? Caught in the undertow of life, just tied down and beaten to pulp by life?

Laying there with words swimming in your head—but every time you try to write them it resembles a gun shooting blanks—sound, recoil but no kill. Yeah I feel like this a lot—like I’m shooting blanks. Every time I reach for my gun and pull the trigger on my temple it just goes pssss—a dud, nothing there—an empty gun for an empty man—a lost soul swimming in the sea of life. Just drifting from storefront to storefront looking at life wash by in the reflection—I am a nothing man, less then zero, less then nothing—lower then worm shit.

Cascades of blood pour from my soul daily—yet I never die—just bleed a lot—shriveled mass confusion—the looking glass of life—lost in rage—loneliness is my best friend, he knows me well—comforts me, tells me that I need to be strong—women make me weak—weakness kills, well not me.

I would eat anyone alive—consuming their flesh, suck it all down—shit it out and eat it again. The nightmares that haunt you are me good nights—the dreams that consume me whole would make you weak fucks go insane—the death—blood—pain—slices me into small pieces which I need to pick up and staple together for another day of total carnage. The silly people in my life can’t see how truly fucked up I am—no one can see how fucked up I am—look good on the outside—at all cost—the inside like a shattered vase—once beautiful—now just a bunch of pieces—on the ground—to be tossed in the trash—an unwanted person—unwanted man—unwanted soul—human garbage—I am useless to everyone—everything—nothing makes and sense—lost in the blur of life—lost in the blur of rage, lost without it. Jo to comfort me, validate me, tell me she is ok, and I am ok.


2.19.00 01:45

Pink Floyd swimming around in my head.

Just looking for something that just isn’t there anymore—it never was I think—just looking for the non-existent oracle, plane—existence—no where to run—or hide. The darkness consumes me like a shark on it’s prey—slowly and painfully, I actually like being digested by life—makes me feel pain and pain makes me stronger, and stronger still—I have no time for weakness in my life, none at all—Noah was weak—I told her how I dealt with weakness, she didn’t like it much. Well fuck her! Alone is still the best number, always has been—one—alone—one strong—6.26.71—pure rage, a fist of fucking fury, I will crush, plunder and kill the weak—I am strength—I am a cancer in the world, in your breast, in your brain, in your heart and your rotting soul. I will kill you in time—oh, yes I will, that is my job you see; to kill the weak—to kill them all.

But why?

But how?

I just don’t get it anymore

I mean what the fuck?

Why is this shit so hard to get?

I mean it’s just life isn’t it?

Yeah just life—

And life is

A real slow

Moving beast with

No hair

On it’s

Smelly ass.

Do be bop—do be bop




And no one to love again

Fuck it—

Valentines day—

I got myself some candy

And some flowers

Went to a movie, then dinner

Later that night I had my way with my self

And I still couldn’t cum at the same time.


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