You are not my mother

Nor a saint

Just a sinner

Just a complainer

You are quite frankly, lame.

You can pretend what you are doing is so righteous..I see through your glass eyes

There's nothing there but a damaged childhood, and a weakened spine.

Don't waste my time, my time-you are wasting your own

Your words mean nothing to a rebel.

No sir, no miss, not no moral judge of mine

You live in a glass house on the edge of a cliff

Can you fall as hard as you make others when you bring them to their bloody knees

Who appointed you special? What are your special needs?

Validation from internet stragners, no thank you please

I can at least look in the mirror, and proudly say "today, I am ugly, but tomorrow I am pretty."

You are not my mother

Nor a saint

Just a sinner

Just a complainer

You are quite frankly, lame.

You can pretend what you are doing is so righteous..I see through your glass eyes

There's nothing there but a damaged childhood, and a weaken spine.

Don't waste my time, my time-you are wasting your own

You words mean nothing to a rebel.

No sir, no miss, not no moral judge of mine

You live in a glass house on the edge of a cliff

Can you fall as hard as you make others when you bring them to their knees

Who appointed you special? What are your special needs?

Validation from internet stragners, no thank you please

I can at least look in the mirror, and proudly say "today, I am ugly, but tomorrow I am pretty."

I am not hungry, I am lonely

Searching, lazily on what is interesting inside of me

Fleeting ships of happiness on calm waters still stirs the deepest distrust inside

This startled body of mine

And if only there was ever a time, I could connect my inner peace and needlework it into the network of stars into my heart

Maybe I could just slowly release a smile.

It's a short drive home from moms house

The sun is setting turquoise and the diamonds just begin to shine

The dress drapes over the eastern coast, it thinks I will retire

To a bed, this is what I always do

Can never stay out too long, quite like a vampire

I've got a cool house to go to

And this is where I belong.

During the shortened day for me, I slowly creep along the edge of the neighbors grass

And put my ear to my garage where he talks to my old man-the one who paints on plywood

He tells stories of his life in New York

Ghost tales, robberies, and gun shot wounds

You would think he was a pirate, I just think he is too short for his tall socks

Some people talk because they are so lonely, while others like me listen

I grow weary of the energy it takes to keep up with the fast pace of his speech ammunition

And walk a little more around the yard to ward off any muscle atrophy

My bed, my bed, not just where I lay my head..all day its like I am in bed!

I don't get up till the sun sets, a bit nocturnal

But in those last lines of light

The dinner gets cooked and clothes tucked away, doctor appointments barely made, and mommas house gets a visit-sick father, a bicycle ride around the block, and young Bobby threading the fishing pole gets attention while he talks about being in love again after his divorce

So, back home inside I go

Climbing the steps to my death it feels like

I just sarcastically accomplish so much in a day its outrageous

Burn me at both ends

I'm awake at 4:00 a.m. again

She will not say what you expect her to, like something radical, but it may be predictable. Will it be original? She will defy what you expect her to, because she is stubborn, and finds it funny to get a reaction from a predicatable you. You've been trained, we've been chained, and born with no golden spoon. I've been lame, and here I lay with nothing but watching the sunlight flicker across the room. In this cage, I've felt more regret and sorrow than rage, as I realize I have taken all the pieces of which held you-no more glue. In this stage, on this plane, I am not sane I am just see through. What I say gets no exposure, tape over the mouth, fingers cut off from typing. Don't want to see my idea of truth. Maybe the sun doesn't want to see you, but does it have a choice? And maybe the moon is sick of seeing you stare at it with romantic eyes, or crying drunk, or howling with lust, or blankly looking at its lonely ball. I wanted to dominate, control, escape, and crawl down the throats of every person who thought they could do the same to me. And I realized, I am not a chimney sweeper. I don't want their ashes all over me. As if I couldn't already breathe. I wake up, don't stand up, just shut and watch no TV. I cry. I cry. I cry so much there is no point to the self pity anymore. While the world spins and seasons change, I peel like old wallpaper. In the background, as usual, casually and poorly whistling a tune to a song that doesn't even exist. Because do I exist?... in a state like this? I am a body bag filled with candied guts, and the kids can all take a swing at me at their party. Pinata. Laughter. Collection. My despair I don't care, get me out of here and I will just sleep next to a bucket of piss, as if it is the smell of a vanilla candle. What went wrong?

When the nights are long

And you are alone

Hug yourself

And feel at home

Love me forever, do not ever leave

The pain and suffering of being alone-never leaves me

I am here, waiting for the rain

Might as well cry now, so I don't look insane

Out here-there is air to breathe, but inside theres no room for me

I need you with me to take upon

This beating frenzy, this fear I have stupidly taken upon

A co-dependent problem, I know it is indeed

But bored I am with myself-and your love and smile is my destiny

The key to set me free

So hold onto me, hold onto me.

To the CCC: "Cancel Culture Cult"

To Whom It May Concern:

No, I will not apologize out of sheer defiance! If I respected you, then I would reconsider examining what I had said, but since I do not know you-I do not owe you, so what I say is what I mean. I will not apologize-no apology from me. #DealWithIt.

Sincerely,

Eyes

I am not me

Me is not I, a pill in my hand

A tear in my eye

I am not me

Not a laugh or a scream

Silenced, sorrow, happiness follows a sunbeam through lavender colored sheets

Save me, oh pharmacy

Castle of pills and pill candy

Rely upon , leach on, suck off my sores

Because I was tired of being a nagging chore

Of myself, I was tired of myself and how I handled things

And now I just need some sweet relief

Thin, weary, hair falling out on my pillows, on my arms like the leaves falling from an autumn tree

I fizzed out slowly, crack open my skull and observe the sparks-I'm misfiring

Put your feet against brick, watch the sun set

My head rests on the mountains

A pill slowly disolves, no-rapidly

In my hot mouth

I forgot what I was originally intending to say.

Smart lady of the light

Don't let them call you crazy

She has her head in the books

And an coat of arms on her chest

A heart of soul and intuition protects her, a song thats a recollection of historys mistakes-human ignorance, do not trust the system these mistakes have taught her

The vest she wears has an embroidered cross, a cross reflective of natures ability to succumb to quick manipulation

Her ideas and wishes are the world to start

It hasn’t yet, this has all been a simulation

A test

A nightmare if it isn’t someones dream

And a dream because most of us are at rest

Wake up

See what we are in for

Fight for what you don’t want to die for

Because its an ugly beast

With one shot

You’ve got

Get in line

Now its time

Do you believe they haven’t been lying to you?

I laugh, and hold in my heart that someone brave revolts when the world starts

Most of you won’t have a head to hold your neck to

They want to erase the past because that’s where you learn from and learning isn’t something the rulers of your earthly destiny are into.

I have to save the children, because “everyone 16 and up” will be something else. Something ugly. They will become hungry. Our extinction is near. They want to eat our babies or turn them into slavies, or maybe an A.I. army so they can be projected safely

Into their space hotels-they have bought their tickets already, so fast they sell...what was the rush?

They think the meek will inherit the earth, but by then it will be heaven, and up there can be “up theirs,” the assholes of hell who trick the vulnerable and weak-minded people of earth, who believe everything they are told. I feel sorry for them, they think they are making the right choice. Their heart is in a good place. “They know not what they do,” a beautiful special figure said once.

A lot of people believed in what they were told and they were gassed. The holocaust did happen, and we were suppose to have learned a great deal about the tricks/lies/disguise and of the tricks of evil. They didn't even have to trick anymore because they took away their guns. Why are celebrities begging for gun control all of the sudden again? Hi Madonna. Why would anyone beg to not have your defenses? Would I protest for you to not have an oxygen tank as a deep sea diver? NO. Why would I take your defenses away? Madonna might as well just roll up the constitution and light it like a joint, they obviously don't value the freedoms Americans have or had.

But thats why they want to erase history-tear down the statues, burn the books, censor the truth speakers. That is how they conquer the world, and enslave us. Black list, black tape over the mouth, shut up before you change their minds! Vee vant to dominate zee vorld.

Evil lives everyday and it breathes down your back. And it loves being a celebrity. It is showcased everyday-its ownership of you, so much we have now choosen to chirp out our thoughts like a little tweety twitter bird. The A.I. now knows what we think. Great. Evil is so tricky, isn't it? It is so clever, isn't it. It thinks it is, but I don't. I think its dumb, because it is my job to! I read the history books! And I saw the patterns, and felt the corruption in my heart. I know what is real and what isn't. It wasn't a bad man nailed to the cross, it wasn't Hitler, was it? It was a man with a message of love. And it was mocked, and the message was murdered, by us.

Who is the hero now? They would be laughed at and killed again. Humans don't want heroes...they want LIARS. Humans love being lied to. Because that is where it feels "safe." A safe space forever. The graveyard is a safe space.

Your parents lied to you as kids too many times to make you feel safe, distorting reality. But their hearts were in a good place.

And your professors lie to you because they are morons. Simple as that.

Wash it down the drain, before it washes YOU away.

Now the cashier girl is asked by many customers, with a glint of hope in their shiny NEW eyes : “Did you get your shot?”

No........Yes.....No......yes...yes...YESSSS with a hiss! There is that hisss of a yes coming from the darkest shadows again. Why!

I don’t feel so well now. I must lay down....forever.....to rest....I should of listened to that one lady..you know...that crazy one.

I used to think a soulmate had to come from somebody else. As time goes on, I realized anyone you spend enough time with is going to mold into what you want/need them to be to a degree. We do mirror each other, this is due to mirror neurons in our brains. Most people get along enough to the point where they would invest that time in each other and commit to spending it in the first place. But as time goes on, and I've been married for 13 years now, I am starting to see and feel that your "soulmate" can't be from anyone else. Your only soulmate is yourself. You have to have a relationship with yourself. To love and accept yourself more than anyone else, and it is the hardest thing to do ever. I think people who do love themselves, and accepted their imperfections, and adore their quirks, and feel alone time is comforting, and they can defend themselves, and laugh even when they are wrong, they have found that inner balance of self of love and acceptance, I think their soul has mated with their physical self-this unity with the you here on Earth, and that divine cosmic you that is out there or above. I think the idea of it coming from someone else sets us up for failure and frustration, and maybe a divorce. Why can't they be more like this or that... and it will leave you hungry. Be in love with yourself (and express gratitude to your maker), and then your partner or friend and everyone else will feel like they are your "soulmate" but really identify where it is actually coming from.