The human thigh bone is stronger than concrete, a boy in a man's body tells me, as he ***** down a joint trying to **** himself quietly. I find it funny that we weren't built to break, our bodies are so strong it takes trucks to overturn us. the funny thing is, we were designed to survive but they forgot to make our souls strong. sometimes people talk to me about the invincibility of the human spirit, and I think that sounds really pretty but doesn't solve problems like how teenagers are taking their own lives off of shelves as if they were thieves in a seven-eleven. they say the human spirit can endure anything thrown at it, but then how come so many of us hate ourselves so hard we can't see straight?
the human thigh bone is stronger than the buildings we keep killing ourselves in, And I have realised there is a big difference between being alive and living.

dog days
a murdered child's
        spoiled remains
   muddy the reservoir
soiled
the tap water  must be filtered
    for years to come
                in memoriam

Not against any good philosophy -
But religion is disgusting.

What's it yous worship anyway?
Superstition - nonsense.

Thinly veiled is your philosophy;
Dogma about me, me, me, me!

Proudly wearin' your mark of beasts.

This the symbol, crucifix;
Nailed up "our" "prophet," we did!

This is the ritual, wine & bread it is;
Cannibal feast of "blood & body."

This the symbolism, con𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯;
Reductionism from philosophies stolen.

This the comedy, tragedy;
Bastardizations from destruction & butcheries.

Like orphan children what livin' off charity;
What's me mother's name? Who's my daddy?

Eschewing everything
Cause you refuse to see, nor to hear.

You worship only yourselves;
This that your balderdash?
Nay. You are your own blasphemies!

There's your "divine" "comedy."

Joke's on you lot
For not just havin' "forgot,"
But for stealin'
And sayin' yous didn't.

Crimes enough
To fill sheets yous call scripture.

No such miracles
For those believers.
Those who worship, only worship nothing -
They will be outside of everything,
"Existing" as nothing.

God, what I would give for one more moment with your lips pressed against mine, your hands running down my spine, but the thought feels so sickening. A sickeningly sticky sweet fantasy.

Every waking moment is a reminder of your departure.

I still see you in the window, the wind blowing the curtains behind you, your silhouette perfectly outlined by the morning sun. The scent of your perfume still lingers throughout the house, as if you had only just left for work. You should have quit working there a long time ago; they didn’t treat you right, so why did you feel that you just had to keep smiling and put up with it?

But nights are the hardest. I can’t stop hearing your laughter as I try to sleep, but the bed is so cold without your warmth. My dreams are plagued by your face, but even so, I’ve noticed it’s begun to fade, so much so that I feel I can only see you in the pictures that hang on our walls.


I can’t keep from wondering what those final moments were like for you. Did you think of me or did it go dark in an instant, quick and painless? Why does he get to keep on living when you don’t? He is the one who messed up, so why did you have to pay for his mistakes? But he walked away, so intoxicated that he had no true grasp of the situation, yet neither did I. Would I have known, I wouldn’t have…

It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

You were the one shining light in my life to live for, but now that you’re gone, I’m left without a reason to keep going. But, I have a plan to see you again. After all, I have nothing I’d regret leaving behind. I know what you’d say about it, but let me have this one selfish wish; this is the only thing left that matters to me.

See you soon, my love.

Tragedy never seems to run out;
a cat runs through traffic —
and unfortunately,
    it finally
        ran out of lives.