I have a lot of old shit lying in my comnuter. Most of it is dated from 2001 on. But a lot of it is older than that probably up to thirty years old at this point. The 2001 is just when I did a big file migration.

I am not really editing anything, just small gramatic or form changes. I am also not censoring anything. Some of this if from the mind a a mid-twenties brain with ADD, anxiety issues and a desire to be “provacative”. The more outlandish or insane the stuff sounds, especialy the poetry, the further from reality it is.

Dated 15-June-2001
==========

thoughts of killing
slowly filling
running through my head
anger building
stress not yielding
soon they will be dead

here, I’m going
they’re not knowing
what I’ll say or do
“on me pissing
to me dissing
I’ll just run them through”

thrust a dagger
see them stagger
falling to the floor
watch them dying
down there lying
like a little whore

now I’m drinking
their blood, thinking
of my grizzly deed
people screaming
police teaming
I pay them no heed

soon I’m lying
laughing, crying
pistol to my head
in deed basking
now I’m asking
“is the asshole dead?”

“yes!” they’re saying
past my braying
tears of joy I cry
’bout my killing
offer willing
“they just had to die.”

Dated 15-April-2001
====================

Water,
Flowing,
Crashing,
Roaring,
Turmoil beyond comprehension,
My mind is at peace.

Originally Dated 15 April 2001

===============

The light from above,
lighting my prodigal path,
Forgiven at last

Dated 15 April 2001

==========

Sitting alone in the darkness,
Candle burning bright,
Alone.
I think of you,
Your body and sole,
I Cry.
It’s been only two weeks,
But feels like forever,
My body still yearns,
For the warmth of your touch.
I want the earth to open her arms
And release you from her embrace.
If you can hear me,
I want you to know I love you,
And always will.
‘Til we meet again.

Originally Dated 15-April-2001

==============

My love flows Blood Red,
Past the world’s infinite hearts,
Never reaching shore.

Originally Dated 8-APRIL-2001

===========

As I drag your corpse across the floor,
Thinking of what I’ve done,
Nothing too drastic,
Nothing severe,
Justifiable for what I’ve dealt with,
Year after year.

I always did love you,
In fact I still do,
But you’ve driven me to this,
You shrieking, bitch, shrew.

The hole that I dug you,
Just under the stair,
Its spacious and roomy,
It shows I still care.

Finally,
Peace,
In the house where I grew,
Mother,
Without you,
I know not what to do.

Father’s there also,
For five years at least,
Put there by mother,
After thanksgiving feast.

One big happy family,
In the basement so deep,
Lying contented,
In permanent sleep.

Originally Dated 18-October-2000

==================================

I got all these voices,
inside a my head,
and they keep a screaming
that they want you dead

I got the blues
the madhouse
schizophrenic
blues

they tell me kill ya,
and butcher ya right
and that I should have ya
for dinner tonight

I got the blues
the cannibal
schizophrenic
blues

my voices are friendly,
good comp’ny all day,
they tell me some good jokes,
and than who to slay,

I got the blues
the joking
schizophrenic
blues

so leave me alone
so than I can’t gloat
if my voices don’t know ya
I won’t slit your throat

I got the blues
the bloody
schizophrenic
blues

the madhouse, cannibal, joking, bloody
making soufflé outta my buddy
knifes to axes, using ’em all
leaving the entrails in the hall

fucking
schizophrenic
BLUUUESSSSS!!!!!!!

===============================

While maybe not politically correct, this is not an attack on anyone’s mental health issues. Nor is it an admission to any of my own.

I don’t understand the habit of calling someone “brother” to indicate a more important type of friendship.  I mean, logically I do.  I know what the relationship between brother supposed to be.  Emotionally, though… nope, I don’t get it.  In fact, calling me “brother” sort of makes me cringe a little on the inside.

Let me start the explanation with, I did not like my brothers.  I use the past tense since they have all passed.  In their own ways, all three of my brothers were kind of awful people in my opinion.  If they were not related to me, they were people I’d have actively avoided.  And before each of them passed, I was actively avoiding them.  Again – each for their own set of reasons.  Though, the common thread was a lack of respect for me and any sort of boundaries.

I am not going to bad mouth my brothers any more than I have, but they have completely soured the concept of brother for me.  I have had a few friends who I have were probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother, meaning what brother is supposed to be.  My actual brothers were not anything like what a “brother” is supposed to be. 

I’m envious of people who have great relationships with their brothers; I never did.

If people do call me “brother” to indicate they feel close to me, I accept it as they mean it.  I know what they are trying to say even if the word they choose is sort of a foreign concept to me.