It’s been so many sweltering months.
I still choke at the smell of pine and cloves.
These scars are growing after I end all these hunts.
You can see the bruises on my neck and the carving on my bones.
Each individual finger and each single tooth.
They embed into my being as I try to mend what you broke.
My foundation rebuilt with my basement of truth.
It’s there that I have to wander through smoke.
It’s there that I crawled through the blood and despondency.
So desperately trying to maintain a hollow connection to someone so lecherous.
You stripped me of my color; of my effervescence.
What once were gilded rays turned to acid showers.
My skin began to boil and my heart began to spoil.
I ripped myself apart to keep you whole.
You threw my pieces aside like they never mattered.
You had no plan, no goal.
Instead of a future so lovely and lavish you abandoned me hopeless and tattered.
After swelling to the poison in your silence, I finally understand who you wouldn’t let me be.
Now I know them, and I hate what you did to me.

I hate it
When death becomes
An option

I like it
When death is not
The only option

if only any crowd i enter
could give me that same old
mystic ecstatic airborne drug
of elated nightblindness...

or at least a break from this
damp dormant disillusionment,

you would definitely find me
anywhere roaming rampant
restless and so discontent—

        —instead of gasping
        for oxygen that
       we didn't already
        use up together,

or suffocating myself
with the refused exhales
i used to scream out
as soon as you weren't there
to listen to me obediently
accordingly silently suffer...

                 you did tell me once before
      that you will do to me
                     ...whatever you wanted to;

well, now that i seem to
no longer matter to you,
would you be so kind
and take away all this*
useless infected air away too?

       cause if breathing
   just means to inhale
            the same breath i used to
         cry out every single night
    i let you scar and bruise me...

Give them to the knives, hungry as they are.
Give them to the noose, hang them out to dry.
Give them to the cross, ***** them for the mass.
Give them to the streets, put their fires out.
Give them to the soil, welcoming them back.

Give us to the knives, dull them with our hides.
Give us to the noose, loosening their grasp.
Give us to the cross, bring it down to size.
Give us to the streets, parade their hate out loud.
Give us to the soil, taking back our lives.

He was the type of guy that would let you know if he didn't agree with something you said or did

I liked that about him.

So I said and did things that he didn't agree with

Now he wants to **** me.

you live rent-free in my mind
i don't like it
i don't like it

i glance at you all the time
i don't like it
i don't like it

empty hallway, just the two of us
hear you breathing and my heartbeat too
love is such a nasty word
kinda makes me wanna disappear

boy, the way you look makes me feel uncomfortable
the way you talk makes me wanna throw up
every time i see you my stomach churns
i don't like it
how could i like it

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

behind boarded windows
where ghosts chase me

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

trapped in thoughts
those that now scare me

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

here in this empty room
where silence shapes me

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

made in tears and now
an ocean drapes me

lonely as i suffer and no
one's there to wake me

caught in war as their
armies invade me

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

i hate it here where
everybody hates me

i hate it here

everybody hates me.

Victims of Consciousness (please don't be offended...or be offended)

You are a victim of consciousness. A deer has a baby and the baby gets up and walks. A human has a baby and it can't walk for almost a year. That smack on the ***, along with the mother's consciousness does that. You can put a newborn in water and it will swim away. It will come up for air and all. If you believed it would be okay, and walked away, that baby would be okay. That is, if you didn't worry about it dying.

Are we less or more than a deer? Or are we equal?

A hawk could get that baby that is swimming away...that is, if you believe it can happen.

We are programmed in the womb, and in the first 7 years of life. The subconscious "hard drive" is where most spend their minds. Check out my page for some videos of me bending your beliefs. I can't break your belief, because I'd have to change your perception. You are too smart for that, or too stupid.

FOOLS.

Bring me monkey pox and I will eat it.

COVID? Gulp!

Believe in health and not sickness.

FOOLS!

Die or live. Your simple choice.
God wants you to believe in you.

FOOLS!

I am off all heart meds for two years now. I feel better than ever, and I even let snakes bite me

FOOL!
It hurts a little.

Aren't delusions of grandeur just as good, if not better?