D.E.A.D.

I cannot escape the abyss. I kept looking for a way to be productive outside of my emotions. Now all I have is chores, chores, and more chores. Sterile, obsolete, isolated. I just want to cry. I walk in a perpetual minefield. Every step can blow me to bits. But I must find a place where I can rest. Can't stop moving. Hell upon hell. My sins are untold. But the price remains the same. No one to touch. No one to hold me. A ghost.

Happy New Fears

The ice is melting below my feet.

I still can't get well but that is to be expected.

Work is still terrifying. It's true I looked into the jaws of death last year at this time and the very most unexpected happened. And it's true I have lined up a way forward for the time being. But nothing dooms me like this "success". What would life have been had I not run away? I'm sure that's the source of my black dreams.

Life is beyond bleak. I must save the world in order to have meaning. The world cannot be saved. Can I save me in times like these? Money could give me a half-life. I need a whole life. I hate being alone.

Drudgery is for certain. Work breaks my heart, sucks the life out of my soul. I can't create for a living because I have no courage. Of course, I don't really know anything but what I guess.

I really miss girls. Debby was a whore. She betrayed love too. I'm the only person in the world she can tell that to. I'm also the last person in the world she'd ever talk to or believe she can talk to. But she whored herself out way better than I ever did. That makes me feel both proud and guilty.

Where is out? If I get the cash I need, what then? I can never get enough. Right now it's sleep first and ask questions later. But I need the right now money at the very least for that, who am I kidding? I pretend to be above it but it keeps me up at night.

I'm tired of the lying. But can the truth feed me? Maybe if I were not in my crippled state it could. How could I ever talk to Emily again?

Let me sleep in 2018. That would be victory.

Under A Rock

Everything I do
I do
For no reason

Every breath I take
I take
Without breathin'

Every time I feel
I feel
Empty greivin'

Cold ice-olation
Mildew
Beneath the rock

My only friend
The End
Departing death

A life ruined
In shame
Runs from the sane

Heart beats alone
Turns stone
Like rock above

Wishing it were over
No hope
Without a hand

No recovery
Sans fear
Of discovery

Claw reaches out
Steals life
From gods in the light

The creep underneath
Rotting
Conservatively

Never can get above
Starving
To having love.

So This Is Shitmas

Ho ! HO! ho!

i've been successful but am less enthused than ever. not real success, of course, just in lying. logistically, i need to lie to get by. i have maneuvered myself into position to do that. yippee. without death's promise of escape i'm more dead than ever, just trudging through the snow, going nowhere. i cannot defeat the money monster straight up. i can only defeat it as a byproduct of doing something i want.

and yet i am forced to grapple with it in losing battle as options of love are not open to me. the life force is draining out of me. it's like eating gruel day after day after day. what's there to give a shit about? always pretending. the man who dutifully shows up to work one day and blows his brains out. it's not then that he died.

how much have i cheated myself? a poor man doesn't make an offer on a ferrari. he believes he has nothing to offer. whether he does or doesn't, he feels deceived in each case.

so tired of this plate spinning. i want to get away. that takes funding i can't get. the whore bitch got her funding. i didn't get mine. irony is, hers doesn't mean anything unless shes uses it to help me. that's really fucking funny. she thinks she'll die if she helps me but truth is other way around. she can't even say my name. frozen in fear.

did i damage emily? i don't know what to think. she only wanted to be pen-pals. but i wanted to be friends. why would she care about someone she doesn't want to be physical friends with? how important could i be? i always thought of her as a long lost friend i finally met. how angry with me is she?

next year doesn't look good. bluffed my way through this one. i have to get these chains off me but have no say in that. i shall ask for the wisdom to do so because i am clearly lacking in that. then i can rest.

but i'd be resting in the middle of a desert, alone and empty as far as the eye can see.

Tomb Of The Unknown Writer

Listen children
But you won't hear,
Of the midnight ride
Of Paul Revere.

Someone asked,
What's in a name?
"I've never heard
"Of a man named Twain."

Don't serve the world -
You must serve Heaven!
When Judas died
There was only eleven.

I sang a song
Dreamed from Lennon;
She shook her head,
As if I was sinnin'.

She screamed to God:
"Don't raise the sun!
"Can't you see
"My book is not done?"

Dead secret dreams
Howl deep in the dark;
Homeless man cries
Pacing the park.

A very successful
Mortgage lender,
Lives for his weekly
Weekend bender.

Breathless reports:
"A sea shift change!"
As we reveal
More of the same.

Call MASH units,
My lines have been lost!
How many verse
Will this battle cost?

A purple heart
For losing his war;
Give all you got
The world will ask more.

You got blood on your face
You big disgrace
Kickin' your hope
All over the place.

He fought a struggle
That's never been won:
A man who serves two
Instead of the One.

Emily raised me
Up to the blue sky,
But the Unknown Writer
Lives only to die.

The Big Shot

"So this is it..." He rubbed the nugget between his fingers deep inside the dark cave. "What will I do now? It's over..."

No more gold. No more high living. No more successful man of the world. No more pretending. No more Mr. Big Shot. The charade was over.

He slumped down in the mine's darkness, overcome with despair. His gold had been all he was. Back to nothingness. Back to being a nobody. Back under his rock.

"I can show my face never again."

He was thinking of the haunts he'd frequent as a big shot, buying drinks and friendships into the night. But him showing up without his gold? He'd not get the time of day - just as before he came across the mine.

"I guess things have returned to their natural order. It's a relief in a way. I can go back to being a nobody. Living that lie was a chore. They really thought I was making it on my own! But I wasn't making it on anything I had on the inside, just what I found on the outside. I knew this day would come. Damn!"

With a clean departure he could maintain his illusion. "Where did Jennings go? Haven't seen him in ages!" "Oh, he got tired of us and went on to bigger and better things, no doubt." Probably best to move to another city, to begin as an unknown the rest of his days. If only there were a way to live without the gold.

He couldn't help playing the big shot. He knew it was a lie but what a glorious lie! It certainly had made his personal life more unpleasant needing to keep people away from his golden illusion machine. But at least he had a revered public persona, like he was really somebody to be respected. That was a hunger that dogged him his entire life. To be respected for himself, that was the gold he truly desired. Having faked his way in the door made that hunger all the more painfully obvious.

He'd learned a great deal about people along the way. Amazing how many are frauds too! From his purchased perch of reverence, they showed their true faces to him. They too lived for their public persona, unable to see through his phony facade. A true person of substance would have called him out. There were a few he knew who watched in disapproving silence. They would know the true reason he could show his face no more. Loser.

Jennings wondered how he'd fare going back to his old life. "I never should have stuck my neck out like that!" Even if the old crowd maintained an unknowing respect for him in his permanent absence, what does that mean? What value does it have? Nothing - other than one more shoe waiting to drop. But his lies were all he had - and all he hoped to have.

"I can take this last nugget and tell them I closed a big deal and when I disappear I'll be a legend in their minds forever. At least someplace in the universe I'll be well thought of, however mistaken it might be."

Saturday Morning Suicide Note

Dear Emily, I have no possible hope of having a girlfriend, that was a choice I made long, long ago. You are one person who can understand what that means for living life. Everything I do is pointless. God is not on my side. You are an incredibly kind and loyal person. I would have begged, borrow and stole for your friendship - until I realized there's no point in a dishonest relationship. I loved you very much. You were a childhood dream come true. The guilt was beyond oppressive but those few months talking to you was like Christmas every day. There's only one way this can end - and you know that. The daymares run into nightmares that run into daymares. There is no escaping the ravages. That's why people do bad things, you know, because they block themselves off from love and need to express it. There is no possible excuse for that. All things I do without love, therefore, are meaningless. I write on conjecture and that is its own form of hell - even if that conjecture is correct. The deception renders praise useless, they speak of a person who does not exist. Others are desperate too out there but I can speak only of myself. I always knew it would come to this. You will feel no pain when I'm gone, no sense of loss. I misuse and abuse my art to aid in the deception of my true condition. No one alive understands what talent I have. Even I can only guess. But to go on like this is criminal. Thank God I have you to understand that. You are my secret friend now so you won't have to bear the shame of me.

P.S. Don't turn into one of those political fossils. You are better than that. If you want to make the world a better place, for you, just breathe.