"The actual pressure must be made more pressing by adding to it consciousness of pressure, the shame must be made more shameful by publicizing it."*                                 Karl Marx

Edward, Julian & freaky Chelsea:
Why didn't they hack Time Warner &
Give people things they truly need,
Like a good 5-cent Fattie,
Free high-speed internet & cable TV,
Canadian hockey & **** channels included?

I put my retainer in; only hoping it would straighten things out. Good luck, love. You're too complicated to be set straight. You're not concrete. You're distant. You live your life like you have headphones in, watching everything without the proper sounds; you listen with your own soundtrack. This fake silence speaks to you. It's your only safety net. It's the only way you feel truly alive and normal. Although you try and avoid normalcy as much as it's humanly possible… Although I find it quite ironic that I used the word "Humanly" because you don't strike me as human at all. You're not like other people.

You actually believe that you need others more than they need you. You search for affection, for stability, for acceptance. You're just a shell of the girl you used to be; troubled and messed up and lost in this sadistic world. You don't know what to do with yourself. What is there even to do with a girl like you? Do you know that you block people off? You don't tell anyone anything sweetie. You just keep to yourself, hide everything away in a little box in that extravagant but strangely complicated mind of yours. No wonder you thirst for affection so much, no wonder you don't have any.

But what I don't get is that you sit there and think about how much you want to talk to people and speak your mind but you don't. You're too afraid of being scrutinized even more than you already are. Because you can't take that you're even stereotyped and scrutinized in the first place. You can't stand that. So you believe it's better to be miserable in your own mind rather than publicizing it all over the place. You'd rather keep it to yourself and wear a mask that says, "There's nothing wrong with me, I have every reason to be happy, and I'm just tired." When the truth is, you believe you have no reason to be happy, there's too much wrong with you to even try to deal with and fix, and you're more than tired, you're exhausted.

"Why is life like this?" You ask yourself over and over again. Always searching and searching for answers but only finding more and more questions. You're always left unanswered; you feel worthless, forgotten. You believe that you're just in everyone's way, that everyone would be better off if you just didn't exist. And you constantly find yourself wishing something horrible would happen to you just so you can have a reasonable and legitimate excuse to be so depressed. So you wouldn't have to wear that **** mask of yours anymore. If people only knew.  

But because of who you are, you push people away. And you allow them to get to you and hurt you. But do you realize that it is your fault for all of this? It's always your fault. You're unstable and prone to trouble and terribly unlucky. You're not fixable; you're just not good enough.

People don't realize the type of person you are. You come off as ungrateful and spoiled and angry and so many things that you're not. You just cover everything up with these negative behaviors and emotions. Which makes no sense, but I know you can't help it. Your eyes don't need all the sadness they have seen. You are a good person; at least you try to be. You're humble and understanding. You feel so much for others and you have the ability to understand them so well. You do things for others that you know they would never do for you. You find yourself criticizing only you, judging no one but yourself.

But your own expectations for yourself are impossible to live up to and you don't realize that. You don't believe in yourself... it's a wonder you have the capacity to believe in others. But it doesn't surprise me that you find it so hard to let yourself fully love other people. You don't love yourself. That's your issue. You can show love for others and be loving towards them but you can never get to the point where you can fully love someone. And you wonder why. It's because you don't love yourself. You like to convince yourself that if you write and think beautiful thoughts than everyone will love you. Too bad no one knows you write and think. And too bad you don't think any of it is beautiful either.

You're just paranoid. You have this weird fear of growing old. You're not afraid to die, you're afraid to grow old. Lose your most prized possession-your mind. Maybe that's why you're so reckless and don't care about anything you do or anything anyone else does. You might as well die young rather than waste the rest of your life being miserable and unhappy. I mean life just gets boring after you're forced to grow up. You lose your freedom.

But don't ask me, I don't know anything.

Marble black bark grow bed sheets of parchment attached by
    strings. Spillage of pink arises from the abdomen. Fused clothing fibers substitute layers of bark.........

The vivid aroma of rot and feasting maggots harmonize...............
                                
A cadaver drilled by burrowing insects. Beetles, flies, pismires, and parallels. A carcass crammed with 200 seeds. Bulbous seeds in the nose. Deposited bulbs rooted in brain tissue. Thick specks of white nuzzle into flesh emerge. Squirm out of the cubicles.  Insects feasting simultaneously............

A figure emerges from the edge of perception. Routinely gorging the cadavers vital delicacies. Amid spouts of fainting spells.......................

Grabbing lumps of brain matter. Shoveling it towards his gaping hole. Ravenously consuming the bland ashen chunks. Gripping the cranium and sipping the diluted ***................

Sliding two slippery marbles into his gullet. Then suddenly publicizing his medals amid his fangs. Deteriorating into slush immediately........

Piercing the stationary ticker with talons. Shortly guzzling the dense scarlet metallic droplets. Promptly the sticky liquid cerise matter slithered into his craw. Hurling the white speckled rims simultaneously in glee.  Than consuming the exterior synthetic.........

    The corpse is convulsing..wheezing..........chest withering in pain. Man devours his own living corpse, neglecting to swallow his toes. A daily phenomenon……to devour yourself.  

What of the toes? Looted by a motivated businessman the next day. “Oh the painstaking horror of humanities hunger,” the motivated businessman then asserted into thin air.

We are the human stray dogs,
All we breathe are street smogs,
We roam with slogging legs,
To humans, we are begging ***** pigs!

With excess food, you stand on obesity,
On the dustbins, we stand for charity.

Hunger eats us every second,
As we beg, humans abscond,
World has let us to fall and despond,
Will the so-called God respond?

When we beg at temple premises,
Giving money to us becomes dharma,
When we beg beyond temple premises,
People reply that it is our karma,

When we beg with untorn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “You have money at excess.”
When we beg with torn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “All you possess is madness.”

To the streets we are untouchable,
To the hunger, we are inseparable,
With money, we remained respectable,
Without money, we turned disposable.

Where is god? Where is god?
I searched with hunger very hard,
I discovered, he was none but a useless fraud,
Anger from hunger turned us a hot iron rod.

Life remains unlivable,
Hunger remains miserable,
Humanity is scarce and valuable,
As modern nomads, our houses are portable.

With loans, our farmlands were stolen,
With human treachery, our life was broken,
With menial physical jobs, our body started to weaken.

World remained cruel,
So hunger turned our fuel.

To our hunger,
Reply of wealthy humans was silence,
For a beggar,
It is larger than a bloodshed violence.

As we beg,
Poor humans bowed heads with guilt
Helpless their life,
With disappointments, it was built.

In the world divided into classes,
Many live as beggars in houses,
Many live as beggars in heart,
They were just ***** and smart.

In appearance, we remain a minority,
In the universe, we stand as a majority,
Self-reliant life is our priority,
We don’t want your publicizing charity.

There appeared a revelation,
A day we will steer a revolution!

Idols in the temple decorated with money,
Its time to turn them into bread and honey.

Give us dignified life and food,
We won’t steal,
This is nothing but a peacemaking social deal.

We proclaim!
As hungriness grow,
That make humans bow,

We will ensure; we make
Your money-flowing temple,
Will completely set down to topple,

We will take (steal) money spent for useless stone,
If an individual is left begging hungry-prone!

Love is an intense feeling of deep affection.
But the world love doesn't even come close to describing the feelings I'm harboring inside myself.
The love they portray in movies and authors write about in novels sure does exist.
It's real.
It's deep.
It's passionate.
It's indescribable.
Yet, here I am trying to describe the intense emotional connection I share with my girl, partner, my soul mate, and my best friend.
Since I met my girl, my life has been happier than ever.
Constant struggles of ups and downs, not sure what is to come next seemed to fade because of my girl.
I post pictures of my girl frequently and every word that comes out of my mouth is somehow related to her, but honestly it;s just because I am indeed completely, utterly, without a doubt, entirely, in love with her.
My girl gives me a sense of stability and trust for the first time in my twenty-two year life.
My girl gives me the feeling of always having someone who understands me fully, and is dedicated and faithful to only me, care for me, supports me in all the decisions I make, and most importantly, only wants to see me happy and successful. That, my friends, is my girl.  
My girl blesses me every day with the most amazing emotion a human can bear. Well that, and knowing that I am the utmost luckiest human alive because not only was I blessed with my girl, but she is also beautiful beyond measure. I'm still in awe of her every single day that passes. And yes, I suppose we call it love but it is so much more than that. It's euphoric. It's millions of little words that make up one huge feeling and emotion. So, with that being said, I'm sorry I'm not sorry for finally finding the truth and happiness that being in love has to offer. I am also not sorry to be publicizing and sharing my love with the world. I cannot wait to build a future with my girl and to watch our relationship blossom and continue to grow.
My girl, I love you.