The problems of the mind are the loneliest by far.
They eat at you and eat at you until you are just a shell of meat and bone.
You walk and you talk as if nothing were wrong, but you see, the problems of the mind are the most burdensome of all.

How can you blame someone for the actions that they did in your mind.
For the **** they committed. For the scars they created.
They look at you the same, yet all you can see is the monster that took you and you fear that they will take you again.
Yet, they never really took you at all.
You see the problems of the mind are the most confusing by far.

The growling meant that he was a killer and for it he was neutered and locked in chains.
But to you he is still the man that you see and love everyday.
So the growling became a comfort.
A battle cry to show the world, because he loved you and trusted you with his world, he would always be by your side.
The world may take them as growls of your own, for your own crimes, and that's fine.
Because when you howl the half the world howls and you know that you have even more pained souls on your side.
You see the problems of the mind are the most trial-some by far.

She is your angel and she saved your life that night.
You tell her but she will never quite know that you truly believe it.
She covered you in her wings and covered you tight.
She took the blunt force of the car so you would not die.
Now you owe your life to her and she cannot make sense of it.
She will never know that to you she was actually there.
You see the problems of the mind are the most painful by far.

But now the *****, the dog and the angel all stay in your life.
Never knowing their true roles in your mind.
Never knowing what they said or did that changed your life.
Following the same pace  as the previous night.
Yet you sit alone and in the silence cry, because you still feel the ****, feel the wings and hear the growls at night.
But no one will ever know.
That is why the problems of the mind are the loneliest by far.

I can't get the voices out of my head,
they hide behind a facade of analeptic lies.
Their incoherent whispers make me wish I was dead,
and their noise seems only to rise.

There is no silence or truth,
never has there been since youth.
They promise a happy salvation,
from my arduous, caustic addiction,
if I were to follow their word.

They speak only lies,
the same in a different guise.

The sound is unbearable.
Their morbid speak of “****”,
but I don't think I'm able
to take my ghastly fill.

Their lies seem so sweet.
Perhaps its not bad.
Not bad to stop a heartbeat.
I’m not really all that mad,
like you tend to repeat.

The only one I can trust,
the one that seems unjust.
The one that speaks utter nonsense,
might be my only defense,
against this rising murdering lust.
It’ll take some time to adjust.

                                Maybe though, it’ll preserve my sanity,
                                      in this world of inhumanity.

[deleted]

There's no sense in coincidence.
But I found the perfect book for you,
the same day I read your obituary in
the newspaper. These reading materials kept on a locked ward.
You kept buried under ground,
like a secret turmoil your family
could not bear with.
The one you also spoke of.
But that is irony.
Something I do believe in.

"Am I God?"

"I've killed people. I've killed you twice today. Are you God?"

You weren't afraid of your shadow.
But rather the people in the sky.
The peers walking, talking, doing
what they do best.
Dissect the innocent.
Disengage humanity.
Regress until broken,
until shattered,
until sand.

"Am I God?"

You aren't, a ******'s son.
Nietzsche was correct.
God is dead.

The other me is of the dastardly type.
Quite a *******, really.
The other me likes to stay out all night,
and is awfully fond of drinking.

He says, "Y'know what your problem is?
You spend too much time thinking."

The other me doesn't take advice.
He prefers to make his own way.
He says, "You've gotta stop going with the flow,
and start making some tidal waves."

The other me is good with women,
and often calls me gay.
He says, "You'd might as well be a ****** -
that thing between your legs gets no play."

The other me is restless;
uncouth, rude, and reckless.
He takes over sometimes for days on end,
then leaves me to clean up his messes.

The other me is an *******,
with no regard for anyone but himself.
Arrogantly vain,
he puts those who care about him through hell
and drives me completely insane.

Me and the other me got into a fight today.

It started when he told me that I need him.
"Come on man, I mean, honestly.
I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now.
You're nothing without me."

(The other me likes to use the word "harmony."
He says it's a precarious balance.
"Our togetherness is destiny,"
but he'd **** me if I ever gave him the chance.)

So I hit him first when he least expected it.
You see, he'd never expect it from me,
but he laughed when he realized his nose was bleeding,
so I hit him again and he dropped to his knees.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?
I thought we were friends . . ."
Then I leaned in real close and said,
"Stay the **** away during the work week,
and you can have every weekend."

i see things in the dark,
quick flashes in my mind.
the voices scream in my ear,
saying "you deserve to die."
maybe it wasn't real,
but i saw you here last night.
you grabbed my throat,
crushing my esophagus.
you reached inside of my chest,
ripping my heart out.

i wondered why took my heart from me when i would have given it to you, had you asked. i wondered why you stole the air from my lungs when, all along, i breathed for you.

you ripped at my skin and broke my bones.
you tore my eyes from my skull and forced them to watch as you tortured my soul;
and when you were finished, you threw the glue at my feet and demanded i fix myself.
maybe it isn't real,
but              
       i            
          am
                 fine.

these things i see so often, can you tell me if they are real?
they have been haunting me for so long.
it's almost time to say good-bye.

these things i see so often, they are coming for you too,
you better run and hide:
they will devour every inch of you.

You wear shades of hospital green in a room chemical white
I see you there but you are not....
raw arguments of mortality lie at fragile wrists
your hands still tremble, yet you sit stoic
your vacant eyes registering no one, no thoughts
nothing of yesterday turmoil

enforced prescriptions anaesthetize the voices for now
and I breathe....the first in a long time
refusal doesn't hold counter here

shall we regain the old you or are you lost now in eternity
within your own cure....

Watching your eyes shut and twitch on your final hours of life showed me that you really weren’t ready for a life of responsibility and maturity. Your skin was flushed white and translucent like snake skin, and your legs blown up like balloons, your veins popping like your eyes after you snorted ******* on your dashboard from your arms , bruised and black like your tarred lungs from the diabetes and poor circulation. You weren’t ready for this lifetime, your soul wasn’t ready to become a parent or a husband. You tried your best as a father, but your inner demons told you otherwise when you left your youngest and second youngest alone with your cancer ridden wife that night. The drugs pumping through your body as fast as the ambulance lights could go when your wife found you on the floor having your second heart attack. Every single day, your wife and your youngest daughter spent in the hospital making sure you were well taken care of. Your inner demons told you otherwise. Your demons told you to tell them to go **** themselves and to leave you alone on the third week. Your youngest continued to latch onto you for years after. On your death bed, your siblings and your youngest crowded around you. Your brother was red in the face with tears, like a little kid who wasn’t allowed to have candy before dinner. Your sister in law who followed the footsteps of your brother. And your mature younger sister, sitting there with your youngest daughter trying to get you to at least open your eyes and see who was there. You knew who was there, your soul wouldn’t allow you to. You strived to open your eyes and mouth to speak. The only words you muttered was, “I need to get the **** out of here.” Your siblings preached about how this could’ve been saved, your youngest said otherwise. She said, “there was nothing left to do,” she held your hand sobbing quietly, knowing you were going to pass away less than 24 hours later. She forgives you for not being the father you were supposed to be, because your soul wasn’t ready for this life. Your soul was meant to be free, short lived, and spontaneous. Your inner demons took over young, and led you to a long painful death. You know how they say, when you die your life passes before your eyes? Wrong. Everything you didn’t do when you were alive that you regret passes in front of you while your soul emerges from your body. You regretted having children and raising them to be codependent while your wife was the complete opposite. You regret dropping quarter of a million dollars into drugs. You regret beating your children and listening to your inner demons again, and again, and again. You regret beating your wife when she had cancer, and prior to cancer. You regret losing the house because you wanted to buy **** with the mortgage money your wife specifically told you to pay with. You died with these regrets at 11:30 AM on February 28th 2014. Your youngest forgave you, but has a constant thought of killing herself since you left this earth. She screams out, ‘why didn’t you take me with you?’ to the sky at least once a month. Your oldest daughter abandons her family to marry someone who she feeds lies to about her family. Your oldest son stays with someone as emotionally abusive as you. And your wife lives with regret, lives in a rental with her boyfriend and the youngest. 5 years in remission of breast cancer. She will always love you, but will never forgive you for what you did to her children and to her. You died with these regrets.