#sociopathy
and, oh, the truth
the solid gold
tax bracket of the odious,
welterweight - feather for a fear
that funny feeling
that gut-deep, wrenching sigh
oh, how she rode the sound of it
the ache of it
the taint of my hearty, pining thrumps of lover-may-care
the trust,
as rickety as
a tattered bridge
I cross the chasms, to her
perch upon
the eaves of her wiles
and taste the nectar
the **** splendor
her mellifluous, tannin charm
golden, caramelized, abandon
love airs itself
and the atmosphere
is poetry
the storms are desire
the clear skies are, basking in her embrace
and yet
by the shore
grain
by
grain
the debt
of my copious delusions
the shore is the evidence
googols of sand grains
counting every moment
that, nay, was she
'twas I
I loved
and the absent sea
marks her victory
for the lapping of sand
as if the sea lapped
is my broken heart
picking up the pieces
by loving
every
new
kiss...
Oct 24, 2025
Oct 24, 2025 at 3:14 PM UTC
Treat me like a therapist
Until you feel embarrassed
Tell me you talk to me
Even more than your new wife
Act like it's a compliment
I know any good doctor would
Say that's unhealthy but
I am afraid of your reaction
So bite my tongue, and I listen
And then when you tell me
I remind you of your ex
You really mean I remind you
Of the one who got out from
Underneath your sweaty thumb
Unable to be controlled
And that just kills you
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 5:31 PM UTC
There it is...
I can feel it!
Something great
Is happening...
Better than any
Pill or shot.
It's so real; it...
Feels so hot!
What's this feeling?
Such emotion!
Senses reeling,
Such devotion!
No more guilt
Or remorse,
Or regret!
Finally, my
Insanity
Is something
I GET.
Sociopathy.
I have no regrets.
But I still feel
Depression.
There's nothing left.
Just this
Aggression.
If I go to sleep
I wake up
And I weep.
But you disrespect,
And you'll wake
In the street.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 1:48 AM UTC
The difference:
The stupid turn to violence, because they know nothing else.
The desperate turn to violence, because they tried everyyhing else.
I turned to violence, because I was born deranged with a ****** up frontal lobe.
This I think makes me an Idol for the stupid and the desperate.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:23 PM UTC
I contend
That I have
Never
Hated the guts
Of another human being
For the guts
Are not
Responsible for
The actions
Taken by their host
Nor are they at fault
For the decisions
Made by the mind
Of a madman
The humble guts
Are only but
Organs with purpose:
Digestion
And continuation
Of life.
I have
Never exclaimed
“The nerve
of some people!”
For the nerves
are merely devices
through which
a person
may harness
the sense of
feeling
But some people
Go on
Through life
Without feeling
Things like
Remorse
Humility
Pain
Emotion of any kind
I pity them
And I ponder
I envy them
At times
And
I am fascinated
By them
Sometimes
Pity crosses with
Envy
And I ponder again
Intrigued –
All three.
I wish to know
How to be
A wretch
A *****
A *******
A criminal
An *******
A licentious *****
A nuisance
A mean son of a *****
But feel nothing at all
I want to know what it’s like to be cold and callous and without regret or remorse
Without a single ******* care in the whole entire world
But all I can do is speculate
That it is
Unlike anything;
Just like nothing at all:
Emptiness without knowing what fulfillment is
The coldness of not knowing the definition of temperature
The hardness of living life as compressed carbon atoms also known as diamond but without knowing I am or feeling like a jewel
I may not quite myself be a gem
But I can feel
I can hear loud and clear
I love to be whole
I love to be warm
I love to love
Because I am not a wretch
I am not a *****
I am not a *******
I am not a criminal
Or an *******
Or a licentious *****
Or a nuisance
Or a mean, cold son of a ***** –
At least for the most part
I am
a human-fucking-being
And I will never try
To be anything but.
It was
Never guts
It was always,
Is,
And forever will be
Folks with their heads up their butts
And brains in the drains
Who waste
Our precious air
And time.
One can certainly say
They feel it there
But alas
That is not
Where
The choice is made
Nor is that feeling
What upon
the action is taken.
One should not hate
Another one’s guts and nerves –
It should be
The mind within the brain
Who takes all the blame;
Everyone else is just doing their jobs.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC
Spare me your narrow mind --
the sharp edges of your thoughts cut deep into flesh better suited to bruise
Don't twist your words into the gaslighting of a sociopath
You smile in them, but I've come to realize it is the smile
of a wicked ticking crocodile
and I'm out of time.
Five is the magic number - phalanges to syllables to tiles on a floor.
Five years rambling around in the darkest of green eyes, in the raw fiber of sultry voices,
in the streetlight suburbs of an Orange city.
Weakness, vulnerability, idiocy -- your words to describe what I prefer to term
Optimistic, good-natured, hopeful.
Someone seeking the best in people.
I assure you, your words fit much better now. You saw to that.
You saw to everything, pulled on strings that would have been better off frayed.
You tasted of evergreen, made everything so clear and fresh
It was natural to confide in you, garner your unique perspective on the course of life
Not unique, of course, but so very rare, so very ******* coveted.
You always were the con artist, my love.
The taste of your bitter ash might come from the fact that you ******* us all over
So perfectly.
I really should have known better.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
Perfect little ******* crowd
Laugh your lungs out
Swear humiliation
Sweat indifference
Salt your licks
Sever empathy
One death rattle
One night only
******* entertain me
Entertain me*
Pillow talk massacre
Conscience guillotine
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC