Your pre-frontal cortex is delectably oral amidst this maze of psychological violence.
Oh, mistress of certain uncertainty, I cannot articulate the essence of ontology, as human language is inadequate. But, you truly capture the flow of irregularity in this mass mockery of societal fabric.
Therefore, I simply appeal to our mutual and primitive impulses. Let us be rough, despite the misguided assumptions of those who claim to have affiliation.
I like old school choppers, because they are not polished.
Rain is such a beautiful thing
The way the drops splash
Drenching all in a liquid sheet
All encompassing it rains for miles
Swallowing the world in a dreary state
I love the rain
Rain means no smiles
No sunny days
A world with rain
Where the people feel my sorrow
Where my darkness becomes reality
And no matter how much they despise it
They cannot escape
Rain is cruel
Rain is misery
Rain is my reality
That I gladly give to you
I wish I missed people.
I feel like by never missing anyone
I demean the relationships I have.
I just can't help it.
Sometimes I wish someone in particular was with me
But those feelings are always short
By never needing anyone
When I know how much the other person misses me
I feel like I'm not as committed to them as they are to me.
It's not on purpose.
I tell them I miss them when they say it first
but it's always a lie.
Maybe I'm just a sociopath.
I live beyond morality, cloudy
Skies issue complaints, however
I hardly have the time.
I often catch myself
Staring at creatures.
Wondering where they
Wander, and why.
I want to fight dragons today.
I want to find a voice
That suits me. Grey skies
And frozen cranes, bother me.
The stone wet, and
Broken. Lifeless creatures
Can be neither evil nor
Broken Binaries. Broken
Machines. What glues
Our heads to our
Is there a separation?
Walk down the hall and
Interrupt my view
Through the window.
Focusing again I see
Opaque. Unable to
Look past the glass.
Only up to it.
Dearly Beloved we gather here today,
Not to celebrate a lovely matrimony,
But to celebrate loss,
A death that touches us every day,
And will do so for the rest of our lives.
Dearly Beloved we mustn't cry,
Not shed a single tear,
We can't nor should we.
Dearly Beloved the death amugst us,
The death I speak of is the death of love,
The death of compassion and kindness,
The death of good all riped from the world far too soon.
Now that it's gone we are left with no emothion,
Left to our sociopathic tendencies,
Left to ourselves,
Left hoping one day these people,
Love, comapsion, kindness and everything good,
Hoping that they will return to make us better again,
So Dearly Beloved I leave you with this,
The tool to bring them all back from the dead,
It's but a smile they said and looked around.
But someday the Dearly Beloved may understand,
It's the small things on a big scale that makes the world good and that's disappearing.
I get scared sometimes,
by a coldness in the reflection of my own eyes.
As if they know something I refuse to believe.
Like he's daring me to see beyond the lies.
I've written poetry about chess,
as a central metaphor for the way I go about living life.
I confess that I like Knights the best.
They're the only pieces with the power to jump the rest.
Sometimes, I worry
that I'm just being used to create some kind of story.
That any chance I might have at Happiness
gets thrown under the bus for the sake of His glory.
I've often accused my mother of having multiple personalities.
She refuses to take any tests.
I've made a little man out of paper clips.
I hung him from a rubber band noose
that hangs from a shelf above my desk.
Sometimes, I'm filled with fear.
I get the shakes in grocery stores during the middle of the day -
paralyzed by the thought that I'm not really there.
Afraid of the things that my ghost might say.
I once wrote a poem fully explaining your mental state.
I know I've got it saved somewhere.
By the way, I think you're pretty great;
these and other phrases you've no desire to hear.
"Knight to e6,
I believe that's checkmate."
Paper Clip Man hung there for weeks,
but his steel wire neck refused to break.
Eventually, he got a hand around the knot,
and used his strength to gain another breath he never again thought he'd take.
I've never written a poem about backgammon,
but they say it's one of the oldest games ever played.
I bet I'd be real good at it.
I'll learn how to win some day.
A schizophrenic walks into a bar and orders 2 drinks.
The bartender pours him 4 drinks.
The schizophrenic says,
'Barkeep. What's with the 4 drinks? I only ordered 2.
The bartender says,
'Oh. They're for the other guy.'
When the schizophrenic is ready to leave,
the bartender presents him with a bill for 8 drinks.
The schizophrenic says,
'What the fuck is this. I only had 4 drinks.
The bartender says,
'Hey! You're not the only schizophrenic here.'
My feelings of hate border on revulsion
Repulsion bordering on abhorrence,
Course through my veins
My blood is thick with ill will
Sociopathic thoughts fire my personal hatred
Hate is more powerful than love
Love hurts hate kills.