EYEfaceFUCKEDtheGODfearingMAN withMYknifeDICK

Repetitious phrases used on a daily basis in verbal or mental conversation, that I'm really getting sick of:

on waking up (and seeing the alarm clock)
"FUCK!"
"I hate my life"
"shouldn't had stayed up so late last night."
"really wish i hadn't drank last night."
"so tired"
"I can't believe because I overslept 15 minutes I'm going to be an hour and a half late to work..."
"this is bullshit"
"i should just quit my job..."
"cant believe its time to get up"
"i so don't want to be awake right now,"
on my hangover
"I feel like shit"
"this sucks"
"Why do I do this to myself"
"sooo hung-over"
"I need a drink"
"coffee...."
"need orange juice"
"my mouth is so dry"
on my work commute
"I fucking hate the bus"
"I hate people"
"it smells like shit in here"
"I cant believe I'm going to miss my next bus"
"why are you driving so slow?"
"FUCK!"
"this is bullshit"
"I'm so cold"
on my (sloppy) work entrance (in which my boss is conveniently right by my desk)
"I'm sorry I'm late"
"bus broke down"
"missed the bus"
"woke up late"
"wont happen again"
on my finances
"I just have to get out of debt"
"fuck, I need a car"
"how is it I can't afford a pack of smokes right now?"
"I don't know where the fuck I'm going to live"
"I need to stop buying so much booze!"
"I'm so broke"
"I'm such an idiot"
on myself
"I hate people"
"I smoke too much"
"I hate my life"
"I drink too much"
"I hate myself"
"somebody kill me"
"I can't write for shit"
"I'm going to die alone"
"I have a tiny dick"
"FUCK MY LIFE!"
"I'm so fat"
"I need someone"
"I'm never going to meet anyone"
"how can a ugly bastard like myself ever get laid?"
"I'm going to get fired"
"I hate myself and I want to die"
on life in general
"no god"
"no love"
"no hope"
"nothing lasts"
"we all die"
"life sucks"
"we are all slaves"
"no one is ever going to do anything about anything"
"fuck the man"
"I am always going to be unhappy"

how i became man:
a brief tale of my own gradual yet inevitable realization of adulthood
(this does not include "everything", because that would be fucking impossible, i aint about to write no god damn book)

I: It came slowly (oh, now i get it! sweet!) - teen

Epiphany:
I am alive, I exist
There are alternatives to everything; most importantly philosophies, attitudes and life styles, we all don't have to be cookie cut outs of each other.
There is no god, no use in being a god fearing man.
People rely too much on faith and the good will of others.
It's important to be creative.
Just because people are older doesn’t mean they are smarter.
Education is extremely relevant, even though school is lame.
Art/Music is everything.
Sex is awesome.
I am co-dependant.
The world, our country and people aren't as good as they seem.
We don’t have to play by the rules.
There is a difference between real friends, people who want to use you and drug buddies.
I am addicted to drugs and alcohol. I will live with this forever. There is no solution; you can only try your best to fight it.
How or what people think about you is not what life is all about.
It's better to be abnormal than normal.
Love is a human necessity as important as shelter and food.
Life sucks but it's worth living. Dying is inevitable, no reason to rush it. Permanent solutions to temporary problems are impractical.
Insecurity is something everyone has and that we are what we see ourselves as. The whole world is not judging you, you're not that important.
You need to have a job.
There’s more to life than getting fucked up.
Anything I want, I have to buy
There is more to relationships than sex, but sex is important.
It’s important to have good morals and be good to people.
Action:
Lost my virginity.
Got a job.
Actually graduated high school (thanks to continuation high school and gracious english teachers) Turned 18.
Was legally allowed to buy cigarettes and get arrested
Went to college but only went two semesters.
Got a bank account
Got a drivers license
Sobered up, twelve step programs, counseling, bullshit, in patient, out patient, all that jazz
Learned to control my own habits and my own emotions.
Stop taking psych-related medication.
I fell in love and found out what it was like to have someone and be someone's someone
Got first hand experience with the human body and got a further grasp on sexual organs and pleasuring techniques
Learned about the human brain and the mind and got a further grasp on how it can be manipulated and explored though use of substances.

II: Progress (woah shits gettin real dude! freedom isn't free!) - eighteen to nineteen

Epiphany:
Faith is not a bad thing, I just can't commit to it. It's not for me.
You make yourself insane. It's all in the way you look at things.
Everyone has there own opinions, there is no right and wrong on such subjects.
Parents are people and you should respect them for the years of bullshit you give em. Raising kids must be incredibly hard.
Education is more than relevant, its the only way to evolve as a human being.
Maintaining a secure income is essential to human survival
Everything you do is okay as long as its done in moderation
Being with people is complex. people are complex.
I'm a hard person to be around.
You have to conform in modern day society. We are slaves.
Cash rules everything around me.
I am an uncomfortable man.
Hard work makes you look good and helps you move up in the work force. (somewhat)
Action:
Got a car, and paid it off (it was later destroyed, and not by me)
Earned "seniority" in the work force
Held two jobs
Got credit cards, maxed them out, paid them off
Built credit.
Got past the lust stage and managed to cradle a relationship into "long term" status

III: Further exploration (the balance beam of freedom, partying, happiness and being financially secure) - twenty

Epiphany:
Everyone changes
We won’t always be into what we're into now.
Credit is important.
Be independent, you have to some day.
You are not a kid anymore.
No one or anything is perfect
I'm not always in the right with my actions and emotions can drive you to do things that are irrational.
You have to compromise (not entirely) your own beliefs/thoughts/traits to fit into a high paying fast paced work force
There is a difference between “lust”, "love" and "comfort".
Drugs aren’t as good as you want them to be.
I very much dislike the humanrace.
People you know can die. We are not indestructible. One night of getting high can be your last night alive.
Everyone is connected.
The position someone holds in society/workforce/friendship doesn’t necessarily mean they qualify.
You can be whatever you want to be if you apply effort.
Action:
Moved out of my parents house.
Changed my address.
Changed my banking info.
Got a new drivers license and ID.
Maintained an apartment for a year.
Lived in a city in which i knew no one.
Paid for everything I needed, clothed myself, cooked for myself, boozed myself up.
Switched from blue collar to white collar, got an office job.
Got health insurance.
Paid bills.
Turned 21, was allowed into bars and anywhere I wanted to go.

IV: Realization (it snuck up slow and took over too quick, where has it all gone?) - I AM ADULT!

Epiphany:
We have to play by the rules but we need to bend them as much as possible
Nothing in life is permanent. Not even love.
We are all suffering
Happiness is hard to find and doesn’t last long
You are going to be in debt forever.
When it really comes down to it, the only person you can rely on is yourself. All you really have is you. You are alone in the world. No one is going to help you.
You make your own reality.
If you don't take care of yourself no one will.
I am not perfect.
I am not great at what I do but I must try as hard as I can to be good. This goes for all things, not just creativity but in the workforce, in relationships, etc.
The only way to get what you want is to get it. Things aren't going to just happen.
The only way to meet people is to try.
Feeling sorry for yourself leads to nothing but people thinking you're a bitch.
You're always going to be self loathing, there is nothing you can do to impress yourself.
You will never be satisfied. When you get what you want, you want something else.
If you don't do what your employers want they will find someone else to do it
It's better to be reserved than vulnerable - you must limit the amount of personal information or emotion you invest in others
You are not special. Everyone is human, struggling to survive.
You have to play the game, or you are going to die. You need to work. True rebels end up dead, homeless, in insane asylums or jail.
Networking is essential to following your dreams
You need to find out what you "do" and do it as best as you can. You must have a trade, craft or art.
You can't procrastinate anymore.
You need to be educated. You need to be smarter than other people. It's all you can do to be better.
Suck the corporate dick, but still have heart and passion for something in the "real" world.
You have to take out loans.
I spend too much money on alcohol.
Drinking legally and going to bars is a novelty and no different than drinking in an alley.
You have to make employers take you seriously.
When you’re 21 you’re too old for teen parties and too young for adult parties.
This how it will always be.
Action:
Suck it up. This is the rest of your life. Live

You’re so vain, I bet you think this piece is about you.

(an older peice)

To the vegan revolutionary, who has a patched up punk rock jacket hidden in the back of his closet, that’s made out of leather,
To the art school graduate whose career has shifted to making logos and cartoon mascots for whatever major corporation pays him,
To the pro-peace activist, fun loving, all is well hippy, who complains, aggravated with his waitress for putting too much mayo on his lettuce sandwich.
To the DIY punk rock band who signs to Sony,
To the sixteen year old boy with a record deal for the shape of his face, who doesn’t know whats a hammer-on is or who Robert Johnson is,
Fuck all of you.

To the midnight rider, who drives a hummer to work,
To the vegetarian who attends PETA rallies but flips burgers to pay rent,
To the chain bearing, gat packin' thug who lives in the valley,
To the tattooed hairdressing vixen who always mentions celebrity friends, when her career has amounted to nothing more than one B movie.
To the bastard throwing stones at abortion clinics, that comes home to three ignorant kids he can’t support without welfare.
Fuck you all

To the straight edge kid who argues with druggies and has never gotten high,
And the druggies who argue with straightedge kids and can’t got a day without substance.
To the whore who calls a prude a prude, and to the prude who calls a whore a whore,
The mormon trying to convert an athiest, and the athiest trying to break down a mormon for beleiving in god,
To the beautiful bitch who got everything she ever wanted by laying on her back,
To the worcaholic, who lives to be the dependant of a bitch who got everything laying on her back,
She swipes credit cards all the way to her utopia of fine clothes and makeup, anything to make her feel less ugly.
Fuck you all,

To the strict conservationist, the extreme recycler, who tosses cigarette butts out of the window of his vegetable oil run vehicle
To the hardcore Christians who commit acts of gluttony and envy on a daily basis,
To the crooked cops and politicians, saying they are cleaning up the city,
To the students with no faith in themselves and the teachers with no faith in students.
To the parents who don’t encourage their kids because they weren’t encouraged by there’s
Fuck you all

To the anorexic prom queen who tells her friends to watch their weight,
To her friends, who envy her,
To the corporate sleezeballs whose job it is to tell hard working middle class employees how wrong they are doing their jobs, cleaning toilets,
The corporate sleezeballs, whose job perks, are high-class hotel rooms and business expenses of cocaine, prostitutes, limo rides and fancy dinners.
To the people who hold political positions because it was their birthright, not because they qualify,
To the disgruntled citizens who don’t vote, out of stubborness
Fuck you

To the people who only give charity when there are others watching,
To the self proclaimed writers, artists and musicians, who don’t take the time to strum some chords or leave paint or words on a canvas,
To the people who are fashion oriented for the sake of others or the need to impress or fit in,
To the broken boy, who holds his insides in by dissecting others and breaking them down,
To the self righteous writer who stands before a crowd of good people and judges all of humanity
Through simple and easy to understand anecdotes and stereotypes,
Fuck you, you're a hypocrite too.
And so are all of your loved ones and friends, cause we all compromise our own beliefs.

I bite my tongue as I clean toilets and mop around tables occupied by former classmates, they type away at their laptops, studying for their finals,
they are on their third year in college, i'm on my fourth year of minimum wage.

I’m just a jealous guy; watch out, I’m just a jealous guy,

I bleed punk and I eat vegan, but fuck punk rockers and fuck vegans,
Self righteous and as ignorant as their enemies,
Punk rock is for the working class,
You can’t deny your blood or your income,
As for the fashion diseased bastards, you piss on me,
In your non-conformity you conform in the worst ways.
Let me get another thing straight, a pit is for passion, not for testosterone,
I go in to let go, and maybe i'll bang into you, but i dont try to make it a fight,
if you punch me in the face while i'm trying to enjoy a band, i swear to fucking god, i'm gonna break a bottle over your head and kick you while you're down,
An art is made for heart, not for fashion, so leave your hair jel and custom bought bondage pants at home
Fuck you all,

I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m just a jealous guy, watch out, I’m just a jealous guy,

We are all hypocrites; we all eat our own shit.

And I think I’m fucking revolutionary, that i'm better than everyone else and that im fighting the system, cause I listen to a certain music, eat a certain way, and have been branded with some tattoos, fuck me, fuck you, fuck off,

i make my bed i die in it

love her

i curse the name "Mark David Chapman"

pig (rough draft)

Like a shooting star flying across a void of nothingness, i am but a rock, mindless, but carrying a massive ball of energy.
Microscopic, i dance and swim among my brothers, squirming and racing to the end of the core.
I only know one purpose and I dive in headfirst and become consumed in its entity, we all become one. I melt and reshape into a single cell.
As I ferment I am given Independence, one, two, three, four apparitions dangle from my center.
Time passes and we all separate from one into several, bursting into existence, there is a rough series of vibrations, it comes in waves and as this continues to grow I recognize the movement comes monotonously.
As time progresses more vibrations begin to explode into life, they form in a distance, but are close enough to feel as if they are a part of me.
I begin to recognize that I am indeed one big organism of vibration and sound, my own vessel, with my own skin, nutrients fill your belly and more of my body comes into form.
The shaking and movement around me assures me i am not alone, sacks of others are near.
I begin to feel, to touch, this is nirvana, security, overwhelmed with nutrients and floating in an orchestra of heartbeats surrounded by vibrating pillows.
Then i am alone, separated from my life source, i become scared, beat at my blanket with my feet.
Helplessness, deprivation of the tube and then I am flushed.
Drained out, its rather uncomfortable, my body is ejected.
My ears pop from oxygen and i have to learn quite quickly how to adapt and breathe for the first time without any support.
I find it hard to work my lungs.
I am lost, let free,soaked and blind.
I use my little instinct to dictate the next move.
I feel the others, my brothers.
We nuzzle in the comfort of one another, our skin pressed against each other for warmth, we lick at the tip of our life force, our nutrient supply, and we love her.
I become addicted to this affection, and its all i know.
Darkness and comfort, minimal mobility.
Then one day it happens, a blinding light, my eyelids open and i can't make sense of anything. The warmth beside me is other strange creatures, we all made it to this point together.
As sight became nature, becoming mobile does as well.
I learn how to eat and defecate.
Life becomes routine, running and playing, ritual eating habits, twice a day.
We all line up to our bin and slurp up whats given by the giants.
I become larger and begin to understand the routine.
Awake, live, eat, defecate, sleep.
Everything seems normal and i am at ease with the day to day.
Then one day it is all shattered.
I am lifted by the giants, the feeders and i fly.
I find myself staring down at the floor, levitated, dangling madly, my brothers beside me, it comes into my gut and i feel pain for the first time, the floor becomes red.
A color I've never seen.
Just as i had learned to breathe, i learn how to stop, i loose my breathe and i am as scared as i was existing the womb.
I loose all air and no longer exist.
Whats left of my physical form is then taxied down steel, body separated into several pieces.
I am then put in the cold.
I am then sliced into sheets, processed, wrapped in plastic and stored in cool air once again.
This is the beginning of my journey.
I am loaded into trucks, my form separated into different loads.
i am distributed all over the county, shipped and boxed into different packagings, ending up in people rituals all over the world, until all of me is consumed and i am forgotten.

i dont know, i guess i just dont know any better

its a routine. (no specific order)
i forget faces, names, conversations. make an ass of myself. do something inappropriate. lay down on the floor. smoke too many cigarettes. puke. fall on things. throw beer bottles into the street. excessive eating at an extremely quick rate. decide to do drugs i wouldnt normally be interested in. tell people i love them. have sloppy sex with no rhythm. yell alot. call everyone "bitches" or "cats". pass out. lean against walls to keep from falling. smoke something cause its there. have trouble taking my clothes off. dance occasionally. black out. accidental piss on myself. buy too much at the liquor store and spend money I dont have. make strange sounds with strange faces. tell people things i shouldnt. walk funny. lose my train of thought. get whiskey dick or the inability to cum. get carried on my friends shoulders. have long talks with lots of yelling and cursing with fast food order windows. go on tangents, rants. somehow make it back to my bedroom, turn the music up really loud. drool on my pillow.

i wake up. (no specific order)
dehydrated. i puke. indigestion. long piss. cough up phlegm. the random scratches, bruises, cuts. something hurts, like it may be strained. throat hurts. feel so weak. i'm sore somewhere. gassy. moan and complain. hallucinate when i stare at something long enough. head ache. smell rancid. bloated but empty stomached, yet i feel like im going to shit myself. force myself to eat. bicker and bitch. everything tastes like nothing. drink vitamin c, gatoraid i love you. feel so sick i dont enjoy that first smoke, cough through it. self loathing. disgusted. pasty gross tongue taste. eyes hate the sun. liver feels stepped on. long gross shit, thats unfulfilling. lots of water. groggy. make apologies. tell myself what to never do again. have little flashbacks of last night. confused. sick. late for work.

dead.girls.never.say.no

obsessed with death (version 2)
Harborers of death; these cloaked men who hide their faces in fear to the earth. Savouring their accomplishment and devotion for their maker, living only for death they live lifelessly in argument and worship to justify their own existence, to become a presentable monument to their destroyer. They are not men but vultures whose prey is a mere mirage and they spend their lifetimes gnawing away at themselves through self laceration.

Our subsistence inexorably ends up as grime in the garden, fertilizing seeds to bring about the buds of life, the beauty of establishment from ruin and so i live not in patience and agony awaiting death.

I live not to impress one monster or idol, but to make impression on all monsters and idols. I do not shuffle about in this existence to ascertain a personal deity. I fear not these creatures of the sky, but aspire to be a winged beast who lives with burden. i consume my sin and live happily with the earth, not ashamed of my stink, i embrace it. I am my own fuel and am not a vessel to an adherence or a loyalty.

To the unfortunate who follow out of fear, scared of the pursuit of abnormality, i give you not my pity but my piss.

For if life is pain and result is the cleansing of death, then how can you be too feeble to simply attempt to suffer and find the divinity in your own depths, you are but a coward placing his own path in the trail of others footsteps, you are reluctant to live, obsessed with death!

massacre at the nudist colony
my soul wages war for a society in which every man has the choice on how he wants to live his life, in which all men co-operate to build an international network of communes formed by voluntary agreements and a mutual respect for the freedom of others.

a society which opposes all oppression; sexism, racism, sexuality, spiritual/religious intolerance, discrimination, class systems.

a society in which the governing of one people by another doesn't exist and concepts like authoritarianism or hierarchy are a buried thing of the past.

A society where all that is known to be true is the empowerment of individuals and communities functioning together to sustain freedom and resistance to any authority.

PAY THE PIPER!
gambled everything you had left,
withered your way out of all your clothes,
wormed your way out of every open arm and the doctors wont help yeh,
cause they say you aint sick,
and your blacklisted from yr friends' apartment,
the street dont want yeh cause they heard you're too dirty,

well come on down to my garbage can,
dig through the soil and set up a seat,
and ill make room in my hole for you,
work with left overs to do my best to stitch yeh up

i got hurt eyes for the both of us,
cook you up a cup of something real mean,
remind you it could always be worse,
come on down to my bunker,
come to me when you re fucked up,
thats what you need, we all need a place when theres no place left,
misery loves company.

rude awakening, plastic stick, bad lipstick
talked of your type before, elitist cunt you.
how is it people can become so hollywood, aspire to be a stereotype, a demographic.
I'll give you a little credit, we all play within the lines of stereotypes.
but atleast most of us have personality and not just persona.
i dont know you, i know your type, so i know enough.
get your hands off me, get out of my bed.
I dont care how much makeup and slut attire you can paint yourself with.
you're not even worth my load.