Dec 22 2010
Three days before bullshit.
Thoughts are dark, filled with one long scream in a nightmare I cannot wake from.
Memories, trigger indigestion, aggression and thoughts of cruelty and murder.
Pressure builds, breast bone cracking, steam rising through micro organisms eating away rationality.
Leave bare boned hatred and resentment.
Naked is murder.
Erotic cruelty of those who infected me.
What I’d like to do
Could do.
Might do.
If a solution is not found.
Confounded.
Misgivings toward arrogant mistrust, those who think they know me.
Have no idea.
What goes on.
Inside my nightmare.
What I would like to do.
The pressure builds.
Hearing me scream again.
And again.
And again.
What I would like to do.
Could do.
Would do.
If the time was right circumstance.
To crush you.
Your worthless existence.
How the world weeps for your lies invented to procreate pity.
My blood rots in my veins, your DNA in mine.
Facial features and temperament are shared.
I struggle against you.
What you did.
To me.
Said to me.
Sacrificed me.
Dark thoughts of murder fueled by rage, fermented over the years.
Swallowed back, sulfuric acid churns against thin mucus membranes.
Vinegar, stings an open cut in reality.
Space and time, you occupy.
Holding tight around my throat.
My ambivalence makes it easy thinking about killing you.
You have cease to be human to me.
More like a tic on my skin, burrowing dead, spreading your disease.
Churning rage twisting in on itself, swallowing it back.
Distorting what is before of me.
My disgust toward the male sex.
What I would do.
Could do.
Like to do.
If I was you.
A bastard in a silk suit, asking me for comfort the dead of the nightmare you called fatherhood.
My thoughts are dark when ever I think of you.
My ambivalence towards your humanity, eliminated justification for the thought of
what I would like to do
could do
want to do
to you
as you did me.
Faceless coward, your crumbling whimpering waste of space, I threw you down the stairs.
Your fist never having time to crush my cheek bone.
The look on your face.
Sucks to wake up the devil.
You did that day.
My distaste for men like you.
What I would like to do
Could do
If I was like you.
I struggle against you, to leave room to be me.
Who never would,
or could
or never will be, no matter how right the circumstance.
Rational cruelty is yours to keep, the lies you hold onto.
My ambivalence towards you, makes it easy to walk away from you.
Not care about you.
Estrange myself from you.
But hard to, let go of the rage I feel at you.
What I would like to do
could do
if the circumstances of my subterranean consciousness where to let go for a while.
