After looking back on the last few years with depth and hind sight. I've realized that I never really took a look at myself and what I was doing to the people around me. The selfish glut is over and the stark reality of the bed I've made is terrifying. I'm slashed deep and wide and my emotions are flowing out and my most guarded feelings are being shared with complete strangers. I've begin to cry infront of far too many people. I met a man today who's wife just left him also and in one look we shared the shame of what we've done to those we adored the most. We fought back tears in control of our composer tripping slightly at the raw we couldn't hide. The insight I refused to use could of saved me the love of my life. Instead I hid in our time of need the emotions I felt because I lost a child and couldn't deal with the consequences that my actions brought me. I realize now that I hid my real self from that moment on. The fears and sarrow that I had felt before were paled by light pulled to the depths of this black hole in my heart. I tore myself apart and threw the vulnerable parts to the bottom of my soul. Inadvertently cutting off myself emotionally from everyone around me. I weep at the relationships I missed out on. I just swallowed my aderals and drowned myself in work. Telling myself that success at my job is what my wife needed. More pay, more things, more happiness. The whole time I was snubbing those around me in brash strokes. I look back on a version of myself as a scout tilling and planting a yard for an old lady and compare that to a man who wouldn't open the door for his wife. What did I think I was doing? On the way home each day after long nights at work, I'd drown my stress in a couple cigarettes, deep breaths of sweet death, just to get home and hide my life in a bowl of pot. Letting the white clouds engulf me in the sparkling mess I didn't want to face. Stripping myself from the crutches was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I remember following a co-worker all the way to his car for a cigarette, after I vowed to never buy another. After that my resolve was strengthened and I stopped getting high. Little did I know the darkness just layers beneath the skin that clawed itself to Alcohol. In gulps I drowned out my sanity and made way for demons within. I write as if this was the first time, and I wish so badly this was the last. The demon downed a bottled of aderal, trying to finally wipe this disgust from the face of the earth. At the same moment failing completely and letting another demon in. The birth of "Paranoid K.C." My drunken rampage was the beginning of the end. I accused her of cheating losely based on texts I can't remember, forever ending the trust we shared, and losing the security that I would be there for her by trying to kill myself. Those were the moments my acts smeared the hallow ground that was our first home. The place my wife so beautifully asked me to marry her. The hearts still hang in my room. The socks I wore wrapped in the elastic that she wore in her hair still lays hidden. Secret relics to the religion of our past. Three days straight I was awake after swallowing that bottle. The first I lied awake jumping at every sound within our house thinking that someone was breaking in. The second was bad, the cars that drove by were people attacking. The whole world a nightmare. I had a class at work that day, regrettably I attended. I knew full well my eyes were dialated like two endless holes gaping into my black soul. In one long gaze with eyes dramatically pronounced the teacher acknowledged he noticed without alerting the rest of the class. Or was that just, "Paranoid K.C."? I felt such shame. The third night, we drove all night while the imaginary people followed ready to attack us. From that moment on, they stopped giving me the aderal. Thats when I realized the addiction it had become. Picking up the pieces of our life we made best of the waste I had left. We moved again not able to stand the terrible memories I, K.C., had created. We moved and bought a third of my parents house desperate for a third chance. This was our new hope. Our fresh start and it was looking good. We'd well mended from our wounds and the foundations of trust were in the horizon. In flippant disregard to who and what I am, we celebrated our new found haven. The Alcohol poured forth and we partied at our new found luck unaware of what was comming. Two nights in a row I let the demons back again in three bottles of bitter bases. I remember nothing, so Alyssa filled me in. Not only that I hurt Alyssa but was verbally abusive. Yelling and telling her that I never trusted her. Making fresh wounds of old scars. Finalizing her grabbing enough confidence to let me go. She left because I was selfish, and I have to live with that everyday. She says its her fault to, but that's something I can't believe from a faithful wife who stuck with me through all that. I feel like I have brain washed her without either of us knowing. LOOK AT WHAT I'VE DONE!!!!
of my shoe
Against the ground
Sitting on the bench
Outside of a grocery store
An endless well
That I saw once
Bent over and out of shape
Mary goes merry 'round
gardens of rose and asters,
picking weeds and grinding teeth;
talking to the jesters,
who make friends with her
when she lifts her skirt
whilst dosed by ivory suited creatures!
Mary has flesh to burn;
scarred lines from corrupt emotions
start the show of peeking mirrors
where she has fondly writ upon
by flame in wicked fashion,
the exits of her dark asylum
which bled the hearts of dead friends!
Mary ambled to a moonlit pane
with a webbed brain rent with swells,
requesting peace from Woden.
Removing fate from Earthly spells
to free her feet and back of welts,
she took last breath
'neath the star curtain's shell
to fly out the glass, pierced atop a gate,
where Mary joined her friends in Hell!!!
Tommy’s little, sure, but he’s
getting to that age
when he understands a little more
picking up things as his parents
take him shopping;
and hearing and seeing things
at home, in the backyard
and in the streets
but today poor Tommy
is caught in class
he’s about to explode
and he’s controlled it the last hour
“Please, miss,” he has the balls
to say it after all
“I need go piss!”
“You’re not going,”
says the pedantic Miss,
“until you use in a complete sentence
the proper English word
for your urge:
Poor Tommy –
he’s got the balls, but does
he have the brains?
Tommy thinks hard for a while -
one hand on his head
one hand on his pants
and then he blurts out:
“YOU ARE AN EIGHT
and Mrs Smith next door
who sunbathes naked in her courtyard
LOOKS LIKE A TEN. Now, can I go?”
*listen-watch this poem read by me on youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XX-ZhOSQIsE ...
of course, it had been
another sleepless night,
and I was sitting alone
in the dark
at 5 a.m.
when the phone rang.
I let it ring three times,
then I picked up:
"do you think I'd make it
if I jumped off the roof?"
"you just might," I said.
"by the way, who is this?"
"take a guess," said the voice.
it was clearly a woman's.
"uh, I'm not sure."
"I don't know."
Beth lived upstairs.
she was obviously drunk
and had locked herself
her plan was to jump
from the roof
down to her balcony
in order to get
"wait a minute," I said,
"I'll come upstairs."
I met her in the hallway,
then we climbed
up the ladder and looked
over the edge.
it was a fifteen-foot drop.
the landing was littered
with flower pots and
"you must be crazy," I said.
she didn't argue.
"I think I can make it!"
"you're not jumping," I told her.
"let's go back downstairs
and try picking the lock."
"okay," she said.
it took nearly a half-hour
of rattling the
before her roommate
finally woke up
and let her in.
you know, sometimes
insomnia isn't so bad
from Slinking Under The Electric Bulb (2012)
Why do people get so mad when I tell them I want to die.
We all end up dying.
But it so happens that I'd rather go sooner than later.
I'd rather rot now than rot later.
The pain triggers my heart.
Like an untreated wound.
I thought we had so much spark
Until you left me right there in the dark.
Everyone had so much to say.
Like why did I lose my virginity so young.
I lost two of the most important things to me.
My virginity and the boy who took it.
I sat eye to eye with a counselor who told me everything was going to be just fine.
It never was and in my heart I truly believed it would never be fine.
So I stopped going and I stopped writing.
Instead I made bracelets out of rope hoping it would hide the scars on my wrist that I would soon create.
Then I remembered how abusive my father was and how many scars he left.
So I began to hate scars.
The pain was tearing me apart so I wrote a couple of poems.
The pain got worse and my thoughts got radical.
I always went to the bathroom every time I had a suicide thought.
I would cry my eyes out and look in the mirror and wonder how did I become so broken and dumb.
I never told my parents about this because I knew they would worry.
I didn't want them to think I was a joke.
A sick messed up joke.
I wanted to take my life.
Damn, let me just say it.
I wanted to commit suicide.
I thought of it as picking every petal of every flower in this world.
I came to the conclusion that flowers are beautiful.
And so am I.
Wait, so is my life.
So I even though I still have these thoughts.
Im strong enough.
Im stronger than a
im stronger than death.
The moon is disappearing
The stars are disappearing
Maybe I can
on this night
On the wings of
just float away
she apologized with lilies and manufactured notes because her emotions were otherwise engaged
loved the taste of the stamps from letters never sent
made cars swerve to avoid her picking invisible flowers in the street
touched your soft cheek leaving tattoos of her favourite words
she left the candle burning when she left the house because she didn't want the ghosts to be cold
she knitted raincoats of lace and wore shoes of tulips
hosted masquerade balls by herself,
for the sake of hiding from herself for a while
So promise laden, dormant lain
Neatly wrapped in cellophane
Freshly minted, new release
Pride of place and centrepiece
Glossy pages tempt the eye
Guns and girls in good supply
Grab something that’s quick to eat
Pop the disk and take a seat
A couple of hours hurry past
Scene is set and players cast
Villain always gets away
Hero vows to make him pay
Know what would be just as fun?
Stop chatting him up and USE THE FUCKING GUN
But no, then they proceed to dine
With another bastard TWENTY MINUTES of unrelated story line
Shooting people, picking locks
Run down corridor, crouch behind box
Hold down R and wiggle stick
Holster weapon, crouch and kick
You know what? I couldn’t care any less
Pause, Quit, Are you sure? Yes
I see you sitting there
That look on your face
The look that says
"fix me. make me feel better"
If I could
I would get up
walk over to you
Take your face in my hands and make it all better
But that would ruin everything
But would it
I let my mind go in circles thinking about it
To love you
or to not love you
Like a little kid picking the petals off a flower
As if that one small flower can tell
Can tell you that that person
that makes you go higher than any piece of grass
loves you or doesnt
but the tiniest fear
that the person that makes you heat up in that one spot
that no one else has even had an affect on
is what makes me sit back down
and i comfort you from a far
hoping that one day
you might give a hint that i heat that spot up for you
but i have little faith