#misanthropy
Chronic, misanthropic disposition
has developed into an epidemic.
Nah, I don't relate. I don't assume the worst.
We don't all focus on who nor what we hate.
Life is full of opportunities
however, you're full of excuses.
Evidentially you're attracted to problems
and that's alright
provided you intend to solve them
and can do so.
I am not a puzzle. The jig is up.
I'm never becoming who you hope I will become.
You were infatuated with who you imagined;
that hypothetical person does not exist.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 6:37 PM UTC
A twisted, ugly, rotted part of yourself that rips apart those around you, sinew, carnage, blood, death, gore, gore, gore. It consumes you, hurting the vulnerable parts of yourself just enough so they stay calloused and hard, an aching that never goes away and you’ve always known, as a dog has always known to bite. You feel it in your bones as I feel heat on skin. Sizzling and melting your body from the inside out until all of it is molten hate/heat. Every color, sensation, obsession starts to taste like an indifference, pressing your body towards the violence, the cruel, the crawling, inevitable.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 3:07 AM UTC
dear species
because you leave your porchlight on
in case someone visits and
lock your door in case they do
and because you grow flowers
on your balconies
and forget the names
of your neighbors
dear species because
you speak in apologies
for things you plan to do again
and dress your cruelty
in ceremony
and because you write history
in permanent ink
then hand out
erasers
dear species because
you measure wisdom
in years survived
but treat the aged
as inconvenience
and because you name nations
like they are gods
then worship flags
more than faces
dear species because
you build the theatre
before you write the play
and clap before the ending
just to be certain
someone hears
and because you lay bricks
over quiet
and call the wall
a necessary boundary
dear species because
you build schools to teach peace
and factories to fund war
and never once
see the contradiction
as anything but tradition
dear species
i regret to inform you
you are still
the punchline
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 7:03 AM UTC
Through the shadows of pure pain and misanthropy
Demons rise in bleak black smoke
Cloaked in black agony and nothingness
To decay in a deathless world
Means not to to thrive
Yet birth in pain from a wounded mother Earth
The womb of blood and infection
Taints the purest form of innocence
All life ceases to exist
Abandoned and dead
Skinless and blind
The faceless emerge from the grave
Speaking in tongues understood by the chosen few
Echoes of immortality and consciousness
Reverberating through endless fields of deceased life
Not a soul can not be heard
Effervescent screams of understanding
Pale skin of a ghostly silhouette
God hath no power over them
Nor the universe itself
The gaping wounds of our motherly figure
Bring to life the exiled silenced souls
Created to fail at conception
In a hopeless reality of solitude and seclusion
The misunderstood come forth together
Wearing the crown of thorns and blades
Rising as a pack of rabid wolves
The end is now the beginning
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 3:35 PM UTC
To live without love is death.
To live honestly,
Is to love truly.
Life is a meaningless void.
Dark, dull, and unafraid.
Populous yet lonely,
Blinding yet bleak.
A land of color coexists,
of love that is cautious and daring.
Transcending human comprehension
And the providing hope
along with its audacity.
It’s power and will to thrive
conquers the misanthropy
Of austere death.
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
Pink cherry blossoms fall like shedding tears
Gently caressing the earth as they land.
To me, it's just decay like rotting flesh
Of one once loved. Just bones and putrid smells
Idle conversation falling upon your tongue
As your bright eyes exclaim more than words could.
These words die out soon enough and I
Never cared for the company of beauty;
I am but a misshapen wretch beside you
Oh! Friend, lover, fiend and vagrant - sorry,
But I reject it all. My heart closes
Like a fist and all we were fades like
The stones at the foot of Ramses, devoid
Of what we once were; more ghosts than people.
Snows and skies of laughter slowly diminish,
I replace them with silence and apathy.
Soon I forget what was so funny
Nor do I particularly care.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 10:34 AM UTC
I am partial to a shifting psyche
I am hard to find when I give up my act
I find the long way back
I am a lighthouse when the wind blows south
I am open mouth when I go off the track
here’s to the long way back
Parallels with my insides
Luminol on my black tie
Lucid all til the white lie
I’ll buy anything you say
Archivist of the meeting
Red of wrist and of feeling
I exist just to see it
Seems to be all that I crave
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
No one has ever taken a chance with me
Some have danced with me
But most are quick to be real slick
And change their stance with me
Fake people making noise
And playing games
Calling names, pointing fingers
And placing blame
Little realize
While they're fixed on displacing shame
All this nonsense stays constantly
Suspended through my veins
They burst open with the worst notions Contorted emotions to mass explosions
Like mixing large proportions of gasoline
Fire driven moths-to-flames
And my response is to conjure
Create, contemplate, and maintain
So please run along and carry on
Like you never knew my name
Because saying it will curse you
When you mention it in vain
Don't react or erupt like 'this' was abrupt When you never said 'this' to my face
Don't act surprised or try to hide it
Like you missed it or tried to fight it
Like you have any right to deny it
Now that you've finally been erased
I'm tired of all the back-thens
And back-whens
You're a has-been, and I'm laughing
Coming out of the woodwork
Some leaving without a trace
Like a blank space could ever replace
Everything you didn't make work
In the end we didn't mend
So I guess I wasn't worth it
At best we could jest, try to forget
Let's say that I deserve it
I wasn't perfect and then again
I'm not a ******* servant
Should I reword it?
Use different verbage?
Change my perspective respective
Of your verdict on the time spent?
I wouldn't know
Because you never showed
And I'm too busy living in ('this') moment
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
I must go.
As I turn, I see,
Hidden by my eye,
A blossom.
A beautiful, fragile blossom.
But the tree is dying.
I must go.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
I feel Empty
whatever i see
there's nothing
there's a hate
and i dislike it
whatever it is
it's a humilation
and i cant get rid of it
because of bad things around me
and it was so imperfect
that i can't take it off
it sticked to my head like a glue
i have no ******* clue
what was about to happen
My Eyes have burned
like i'm in hell
Whatever i wish they die
In that Maggot-filled well
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC
So often
Going through the day
Minding my own business
and people feel the need to intrude.
Smoking outside my building
Just want silence
One of the local talkies comes over
Going on and on
Sciatica pain he says
On and on
and on and on
“Probably emotional” I tell him
He did not like that
Most people don’t
When you suggest there is something
more going on
Than they are willing to face.
But I have decided
If they want to intrude
on my solitude
I don’t have to chew it.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
For eons untold I have watched you rise and fall. Build empires and break them. Cure diseases and be ailed by them. I have watched you commune in many religious ways… watched you slaughter for your faith. Now that the darkness has dawned, finally I have come, soaring towards you.
As the farmer brings his harvest home, the librarian pores over long forgotten a tome, whilst the piper flutes a final tone. Echoes from my insides a most peculiar and maddening drone.
Too long soils you have stained with blood, bygone your time of breeding. Your cancerous race, your viral existence… Put out of its misery soon enough.
I soar, adorned in shrouds of doom and gloom, my wings blowing frigid winds and blotting out the moon. Unseen horror, hidden in the darkest nooks of your feeble minds. The stalking predator that lurks near the sheep pen. Crypt born from the graven mounds of a long stained and rotten memory. Ancient pillars carved for me, worshiping us.
No atonement can there be for the existence of human sin. Only to rend and tear your fleshy vessels. In a nuclear chaos confounded to the self-made oblivion, the blindfold to not see, the unutterable horror that is me…
Flee…
If it makes you feel safe and sanctified. You will feel my leering gaze and gaping maw wherever you may hide. Sleep will creep upon you somehow.
Like in times of old, there are some stories they left untold. To prevent further damnation and total extinction, the worship of the gods of all creation. Floating in a sea most nebulous, blackened and foul, adrift outside of the play garden of time and space, there live things without a face.
The piping of mad flutes a harbinger of my coming, a blazing star to wipe the slate clean. Not even a faint echo will remain.
Go out while you can… Walk hand in hand into extinction as brothers and sister, opting out of a raw deal. The last midnight for the human race…
A cancerous vile growth that only thrives for our amusement…
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 7:52 PM UTC
Will Rogers used to say he never met a man he didn’t like.
I admire people like him.
But I’m not one of them.
I meet people I don’t like every day.
It just happens.
Little Grudges, my friend Sal used to say.
“You have a lot of little grudges.”
My neighbor for example, banging the trash can lids
Outside my window
Two in the morning
Not that it woke me up
But I get up to look
Peek down there
Naturally nosey person that I am
And he’s pushing pushing
What in hell is he pushing at that hour?
So, Will Rogers I am not.
I probably wouldn’t have liked him either.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Evacuate the cockpit,
Give me the joystick,
I am the one in control.
Enough of your decisions,
Enjoy my dominion,
This is what you deserve.
You don’t need to speak,
Go join with the weak,
I am not listening.
Don’t give me your emotion,
My plan is in motion,
There is nothing you can do.
How does it feel?
Your fate is sealed.
Helpless just like me.
See, I am weakest upon this ship,
My esteem drains drip by drip.
But you don’t know that.
Because I am in control.
Divide and conquer,
Narcissistic, off my rocker,
I am your ruler now.
Don’t look me in the eye,
Shut up and stand in line,
I. Am in. Control.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
i'm so misanthropic
i barely like myself
i hope that some day
we'll all be rotting in hell
and i know it's not fair
and i know it's not kind
but **** this ****
i just wanna die
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Some day
It'll all be over
No more people
No more thoughts
No more feelings
Here's hoping
That it'll be soon
I'll drink to that
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
I let myself hate some people,
Just this once, without remorse.
It isn’t that they couldn’t be better
But they certainly couldn’t be worse.
When I see someone hurting others
Just because they know they can
I begin to doubt if they really are
Still what we could call a man.
Or a woman, it’s that way too.
I have seen both happening
And their womanhood doesn’t really
Spare them the awful labeling
As monsters no less than seen
In the worst of horror flicks.
You don’t have to watch them long
To recognize that they are sick.
Why would anyone with everything;
House, toys and outrageous food
Find themselves so evil and resentful
To get into a robbing, killing mood?
Yet they do, and spend great energy
Finding ways to steal and maim more
And more of people they don’t know
And then call themselves sweet names.
What does it take to make people be
All hyped up on these kinds of games?
And why do others applaud them
And act like they are something great?
Go ahead, come up with some excuses.
I’ll be patient and sit and just wait.
What could make a person believe
That genocide, embezzlement and theft
Are they only ways they can have fun?
That there is nothing more fulfilling left?
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
Barbiturate is one of the few drugs capable of killing you painlessly, so of course the state has banned it. Instead we get paracetamol, a ****** over-the-counter painkiller that leaves you in pain for up to five days while your liver and kidneys shut down. Suicide prevention is a ******* joke. Secular appropriations of Christian values that assume life is worthwhile, whether you desire it or not. It’s long been known that rates of suicide rose dramatically with the birth of modernity—techno-scientific paradise for the middle-class which stresses efficiency over existence. New forms of automation, the human body disciplined into repetitious acts, the partitioning of workspaces so that no single worker could operate the whole—so that any worker could be fired and replaced with the minimum amount of training necessary for capital to continue circulating. The body is individualised, scrutinised, and punished by rich kids playing panopticon, so that any mass agitation is coerced into silence through the threat of destitution.
Slitting your wrists barely succeeds and more likely than not leaves you with tendon and muscle damage. Catalytic converters in cars now convert carbon monoxide into harmless CO2 and H2O. Drowning is one of the most painful ways to die. You cannot escape. The state places helpline numbers around suicide spots to treat life after the fact, rather than at the source of suffering. Vocal band-aids, ****** ******* aphorisms that seek to revert you back into a happy state-serving commodity. Things will get better. Life is worth living. Think positive. Alienation is omnipresent. Neoliberal discourse requires you to be subservient to the greater system of capital and the easiest way towards this is the instilment of comfort, of pleasant nullity, the circumscription of emotional capacity and reflectivity. Suicidal thoughts are abnormal, because life is worth living. Eat your packaged food item and watch Netflix.
For a drop into water to be fatal, it has to be 250 feet. Try to aim for your head to maximise brain injury. The most prominent suicide spot around here has a drop of 100 feet. They cordoned it off anyway. Your life doesn’t belong to you. The first time I tried to suicide my mother asked ‘why would you do that?’ as if it was the dumbest thing in the world. The second time, the doctor looked at me in an exasperated manner and prescribed me lots of drugs. Geettt bettterrrr. Nobody cares about you, they simply want you to return to normal. Normality as in serving your parents, serving your friends, serving the state, and serving the market. Normality as in not questioning social norms and institutions. Normality as in get a stable job (i.e. compete against other workers in an exploitative, undemocratic system that values and inculcates self-serving desires), get married (preferably to someone of the opposite *** who is middle-class and imbibes European culture), get pregnant/get someone pregnant (but only once or twice, because anyone who has more children than that is backwards), invest in housing (those students and lower-class families need to learn how the world works; really, it’s a benefit to take their money), watch sports (to instil national pride in your children; no son, we didn’t colonise the Pacific Islands, keep watching the man with the wooden stick hit ***** eat out every week (preferably exotic restaurants), go see the world (preferably exotic locations, so you can be served by exotic people, take in exotic sights, then leave without considering where any of your money has gone to, whether any of it has reached the slums, whether the beach you lay on is accessible to the people living there, or whether it has been privatised by the tourist firm so that only rich tourists like yourself can lie on it), join a club (those capitalists were innocent, it was the indigenous folk that were making a ruckus over the new golf course; it’s not like we’ve been colonising their land and culture for the past three centuries), donate to charity (but never any charity desiring systemic change; that’s crazy), consume, always consume (keeps the economy going; why question the desire for infinite growth in a world with limited land, resources and markets?), replace your phone every year (those poor workers in Asia need our help), repeat to the point of nausea.
The most successful method to suicide is a shotgun to the head; high calibre, slug rounds. Of course, with all these methods, the chance of failing may leave you disfigured, paralysed, mentally disabled or physically crippled (spinal damage, broken limbs, failed organs), with no guarantee that your family, or even your state, will allow for euthanasia. After all, the popular discourse paints suicide as selfish—an irony, considering liberalism places the self first and society second. It is viewed as sinful regardless of context—deontologically detached from anomie, alienation, material deprivation, social pressures, psychological affectations, any cause or structure. Life is worth living. This ignores that the subject is situated in existence. The subject moves through existence to live. Life, then, is the totality of the subject’s interactions. It cannot be universalised into a single state or judgement that merges all subjectivities into a catch-all worthiness. Worth is dependent of the subject.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe I just want everyone to **** themselves, because the world is ****** and the majority of people are ******* it worse. Most people think being nice makes them good. They turn blind to the systems of oppression they partake in. A while ago my mother was asking if I’d heard about the mass suicides happening at Foxconn, the largest electronics manufacturer in the world. This year she showed me her new iPhone. I don’t ******* understand. I don’t understand how people can be outraged at humanity abuses, yet do ******* nothing to help or change their ways. Yes, market solutions are ******* **** but these commodities are still coming from somewhere, and while capitalism is in place, our money is still flowing back. I don’t understand how people can be concerned about ecological issues, then pour dishwashing liquid down the sink every night, dissolving the gills, eyes, and organs of fish in rivers and oceans. I don’t understand a ******* thing. I feel physically sick most days. I can barely function outside of university, because engaging with real people, in real systems, just reminds me of how careless, worthless, and disgusting they are. When I first turned vegan, my dad simply said plants are living too. Well no ******* **** dad, why didn’t you ask me my reason for turning vegan, rather than simply repeating the dumb **** everyone else says? If you were stuck on a desert island. Well I’m ******* not. I’m stuck on this **** world filled with nice people who don’t give a **** about anything. I’m stuck every week walking the same roads, to the same university, where I become more and more distanced from reality through abstract philosophical theories that no one else cares about. I’m stuck walking through the supermarket every week, to purchase overpriced commodities produced by transnational corporations I don’t support, but nonetheless have to buy to survive. What alternatives I buy are mocked because it's so funny being ethical in our day and age. Because it’s so much more normal eating pies, and drinking beer, and treating women like objects, and affirming nationalistic sentiments of white supremacy, and making fun of ethnic minorities while they’re incarcerated, and beaten, and killed. All lives matter, the liberal conservatives cry out, while doing ******* nothing to help any cause. I don’t understand this world, and I have no desire to be in it if this is all there is.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
As I consumed by infinite numbers,
conservative prefaces,
artificial growths,
meaningful labels;
dreadful sins will always be as they are
forever stretching out The Love and a pity
become a perpetual giant concrete wall in between
don’t them all owe me a bottle of heady wine nor just a thank
o, o, o, please,
my heart is already ******
poured up by their tang of lies
how can I ask for help in a myriad of plastic hearts?
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:43 AM UTC
Scream into the darkness
Without a sound
Weakling
Powerless miscreant
Buried by ash
And trampled by a thousand footsteps
A thunderous roar rips through the night
My desire to reconnect is devoured
By my craving for...
Subterranean hedonism
Exhausted from the surface
I burrow into fantasies of sunken darkness
I have tried to blend into the world
But people continue to dissapoint me
Bones ground to ash and thrown to the wind
My last burials rites
I had hoped it wouldn't come to this
But there is no hope...there is only me
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
Drowning in a sea of disappointment
Swept away by the undercurrent
Into the depths of my own hatred
The weight of my heart
Set in stone and cast in steel
Kick me down
Complete submission
I reached for the stars as a last desperate
attempt to be part of the light
But you extinguished the sun
And you swallowed the moon
And by the time that I had finally made it
The stars had all died
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
My eyes redon to the calming devastation of such undying realisations: I am starved of the right answers to which all true purpose lies.
I feel sickly and swollen like I have consumed too much all at once, and I feel frozen for I have lost all that I love.
I stare at the ground and with swift attention to the gravity surrounding me, I sigh as I predict future days dampened with misanthropy.
I've been lost ever since?
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC