Rambling 1

There is only fear left

I am sitting here.

All alone. By myself.

Bothering nobody.

You come along.

To do whatever. I don't care.

You look at me and sigh loudly.

No, what the fuck?

What was that supposed to mean?

"Nevermind." Nevermind my ass, tell me.

Is what I want to say, but I don't.

Instead I take that bravado and use it elsewhere.

I fake strength as I shrink inside.

I already know you do this bullshit on purpose.

This is something you do all the time.

Always ends the same way.

But it doesn't always end the same.

I'm not the only person in your mind.

So why do I assume it is?

You go and argue with the pacifist bastion.

She yells back. I fear it is about me.

I sneak closer. It is not.

This is the second time that I assumed wrong about your yelling.

You have much bigger troubles than me. I am not important.

So why do I always assume? And why do I always fear?

I have no answers to such questions.

I have no solutions to such problems.

There is only fear left in this husk.

I'm Sorry. I'll Leave. I'll Go.

It appears that

I have done

something bad again.

It appears that

I have drawn

your ire again.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I just

another filthy

attention-seeker?

Is this

another farce

I've made?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I

Not even worth

The air I breathe?

Am I really

Such scum

And filth?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I truly

Just another blight

On this world?

Should I

End it here

To not be a burden?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Just say the words

and I'll make

my exit.

Just tell me to get out

and I'll heed

your command.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Depression is a Drug

Depression is a drug

and I think I have become addicted

To that sense of despair.

It tells me, softly:

"it's okay. Nothing matters anymore."

"You can be as lazy as you want."

But what's more is that

I have built up a tolerance

and it no longer excites me.

I am no longer enthralled

By the infinite sadness.

I am only bored by it.

I want for more.

I hope for the moments that crush my soul.

The moments where the guilt and anger and sadness come in waves.

I look for the moments where my soul goes dark and my heart empties out.

But I am stuck in the quagmire of boring, base sadness.

and I am still controlled by it.

I reach for the bright future

and I fall just one inch short

It is good enough. I have done enough.

But it is all unraveling back again.

I changed my direction.

I chose the better path.

I worked towards truly living.

So why is it falling back apart?

I convinced myself I could be happy.

I convinced myself I was allowed to be happy.

I convinced myself it would be better to be happy.

So why do I feel like I deserve to suffer?

Do I have anything to say for myself?

Do I have some sort of penance to offer?

Do I regret my choice, or only that I failed?

Should I regret my existence, too?

was the pie in the sky just another fucking lie?

A Tree Falls

A tree falls in the forest.

Nobody is nearby. Nobody to hear.

Does it even make a sound?

A tree falls in the forest.

It will impact the ecosystem

even more than it impacts the ground.

A lighthouse stops its beacon.

A ship nearby is lost and weary.

It cannot see. It runs aground.

A man dies alone in his hut.

He was kind, he was friendly, he was good.

At his funeral, no friends of his could be found.

But one kind lady far away might remember.

He had helped her find her way, a long time ago.

And so his memory, perhaps, will be skyward bound

as the man who loved everybody but himself.

Solving Problems

Solving a problem

is about finding

the right tool.

Sometimes

You have the right tool

but forgot it.

Sometimes

You saw wrong

And you grabbed the hammer

When what you needed was a wrench.

Sometimes

You simply don't have it

And need to go to the store

To get the tool you need.

Sometimes

That tool is people.

New ideas, new methods, new tricks.

Everyone else has so much to teach us.

And sometimes

I stressed so much

I forgot the simple solution

and cried myself to sleep.

And maybe

maybe sometimes

there just isn't a perfect solution at all

and I have to just deal with it.

Or maybe I'm using a voltmeter and car battery

When what I actually need is a hand.

I Ask

I repeat my lamentations forevermore

as I repeat the same actions

that create this melancholy suffering.

I ask, "Where has all the joy in the world gone?"

while I push it away and reject every inch

for I am afraid of allowing spring

into my frozen, quiet winter.

I ask, "Where have all the good men gone?"

as I fail to see that I myself

am not a good man,

and thus see little good in others.

I ask, "What can I do to make the right choices?"

as I look at the choices in front of me

the correct one obvious to my discerning eye

and choose the shortsighted option again.

I ask, "How can I be better?"

as I ignore the hard, effortful path to victory

the path taken by everyone else who won

and simply hope greatness will fall onto my silver platter

I ask, "Where is someone who will love me?"

as I fail to see the good in myself

and forget that love, like charity,

starts from within.

An Unrealistic Wish

Fair lady, your grace

astounds me. Your beauty is

simply unparalleled. Oh, what I would give

to be one of your faces, each beautiful,

each with their own touch -

immaculate, pouting, smiling, caring, sharp, soft, all perfect.

But I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that.

Instead, I am stuck in this

muck of a body. My ugliness is

quite gastly. I suppose it is nature.

To be a Man, this vulgar, disfigured-at-conception

shambling mound of meat, fucking years of effort

just for the body to be fit and healthy, much less attractive,

and even less so the face.

And don't get me started on the person.

Oh, yes, I suppose partly inherited, but I'm sure mostly inherent -

the rage, violence, crassness, brash impusiveness,

the chaos and unbefitting nature of it all.

Why, I can't even love myself like this -

What kind of asshat would I be to ask for love from you?

But I digress. See, this is what I mean -

Even now I overpower, I crush and push and talk

as if I am the only real person in the world, a spoiled brat -

whining about how bad he has it

to people who've had much worse.

Forget me. I've been

too much of a burden on you. I'm sorry.

Even now your kindness and generosity shine through

my darkest clouds, my deepest woes,

and I'm sorry I waste your blessings like this.

Thank you for your time. I know, I know -

I cannot be one of your faces. I am what I am:

a greedy little shit of a Man who is only after your looks

and even if I had it, it would be fake, a cheap imitation

of your boundless perfection. But thank you for

at least considering it. Oh, and before you go -

I love you. You're beautiful.

HANG IN THERE BABY!! instagram | bluesky | patreon

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Day and Night

The sun shines brightly

on a joyful new day.

Let us laugh and laugh

until our minds are jelly and paste.

No, I will not

"take it down a notch."

Not for you, for myself, or for anyone.

I am free as the sky.

I know, you know, we all know,

What happens to me when the dreary time comes.

The world falls apart, reality losing its lustre

as all returns to the correct muted gray and _____.

But who cares? Let's not let the spoilsport

ruin our fun. Live in the moment,

Die in the moment, be your authentic self -

For there is no future to look forwards to.

I am Night, the eternal slumber,

once again reminding you of outstanding debts.

Your soul is mine, as ruined as it is,

For even the most damaged of people have value.