Why can I never get up the guts to kill myself when I really want to?

It begins to drizzle. Light rain gives way to a torrential downpour. The cloudburst’s flow streams down my face in rivers running away to the sea of forgotten souls in which I swim, where there is no moon to pull the tide, the source of all sorrow and sin. Upon its waves I ride, surrounded by bluesy melancholy abyss. This vast expanse filled to the brim with nothing-ness. And, as impossible as it may seem to be- drowning in this sea of fallen tears and scars- when I gaze up at night, I sometimes see the light, the light of a thousand stars. And, though the waves may try to drag me under, and the sea may try to take me over, I know I will be alright, just as long as I can see the light- the light of a thousand stars. Sometimes, the light comes down, even lifts my frown, and, momentarily, it carries this poor devil, angel-like, all the way up to heaven, where the nights are bright, and I can see by the light- the light of a thousand stars.

pulled from underneath, trundle along, feeling, always feeling. walking on the rough and jagged cold place, feeling ahead, sniffing for it. halt. feel. rough straight warmish place. climb. pulled from behind, get above, pulled from underneath. trundle along, feeling, always feeling. searching for it. leaving a trail of chemical breadcrumbs behind for the others to find. a gap. search. sniff. feel it out. follow it down. pulled from the front. hold on tight to the rough straight warmish place. not here. not above. find the side. halt. climb. pulled from behind, get on top, pulled from underneath. keep going, searching, sniffing, feeling. the edge. feel it, find it, go down. pulled from the front. halt. soft and granular warmish place. feel it nearby. sniff for it, search it out, find it. near. go. walk. leave the trail, stronger now, nearby. hints linger. here not long ago, struggling. a brush on the side. a not-so-stiff straightblade pokes up. many nearby. it lies within. go forward. feel out the not-so-stiff straightblades. search for it, sniff it out, sense it. there it is. just ahead. trundle along, feeling, always feeling. shadow in sight. see it. feel it. sniff it. taste it. its good. mark it. wait. others coming. soon. now. black army pulled from underneath, trundles along single file, feeling, always feeling. walking on the rough and jagged cold place, feeling ahead, sniffing the breadcrumbs. halt. feel. rough straight warmish place. breadcrumbs? check. climb. pulled from behind, get above, pulled from underneath. follow. trundle along, feeling, always feeling. following. sniffing out a trail of chemical breadcrumbs. a gap. search. sniff. feel them out. follow them down. pulled from the front. hold on tight to the rough straight warmish place. not here. not above. to the side. halt. climb. pulled from behind, get on top, pulled from underneath. breadcrumbs. don’t lose them. follow the trail, stronger now, nearby. getting closer. not far now. breadcrumbs through the not-so-stiff straightblades. follow. very close now. mark. mark ahead. there is the mark. mouths grab this, grab that. grip here. grip there. lift. once again, the crumbs. other way. follow. pulled from underneath. pulled from behind. pulled from the front. pulled from behind. pulled from the front. pulled from underneath. cross the jagged cold place. don’t drop it. head home. down. into the soft and granular warmish place here. feed.

I am Out of Line How dare you censor me? You have a facist democracy chosen by itself whose leader is a redneck with a Hitler complex And I am out of line? You seek desperately for a head on which to put the blame when it obviously is nobody’s fault but your own. You beg for monetary compensation For your maltreatment of yourself All because you wanted a damn cheeseburger And I am out of line? You select from a crowd A scapegoat dressed in black with nipple rings and one-inch holes in his ears You condemn him with no thought of his guilt or innocence Only worrying about the fact that he did not meet your standards of acceptible appearance And I am out of line? You destroy the minds of developing children you placed a computer in their hands and call yourself just you disregard those on whom your job depends and those whose job it is to make you seem like less of an idiot all so you can appease your stupid agenda And I am out of line, Dr. Edwards? You preach to your children that all people are equal Yet you call the man who cut you off a stupid nigger and I am out of line? You treat me as an inferior and stirp me of my rights and free will you order me to respect you And I am out of line? How can I be the aggressor When all I do is not stand when I choose not to compromise My morals to please you simple minded cretins Because I refuse to stand and pay respect to something I do not nor will I ever have any respect for If inteligent, individualistic thought is a crime, If logic is a crime, If speaking the truth instead of believing the lies is a crime, Then I am out of line. The intent of my poem was not to cause any harm, however I did wish to cause some people to think, to raise a few eyebrows while getting my point across. I was unaware of the fact that my message could be misconstrued. In no way did I intend to cause anyone to take offense. I only wanted to show that hypocrisy is an all too common trait in American society. The lines in question “You preach to your children that all people are equal, yet you call the man who cut you off a stupid nigger,” were not intended to offend, but merely call to attention the fact that such actions are apalling, and that committing said acts is one of the greatest sins that takes place in this country today. I did not intend to, nor did I commit these actions. I was only using the offensive term in order to further prove my point that it should not be used. Had I utilized any other term, my message would not have come across. One may argue that writing my poem was acceptible, but reading it to the class was where the digression was committed. The fact of the matter is that my poem had been approved for reading by a member of English Department, who was present for my recitation. The teacher’s exact words on reading the first draft of my poem were “You might want to clean it up a little. Take out this word here [jackass] and take out the stanza about Dr. Edwards.”In the spirit of artistic expression, I decided to keep the foul language to a school-appropriate level. I fail to see where, having been asked to read a book which uses this word several times, I would be at fault for using it in an unoffensive manner to demonstrate a universally pure point to which everybody can relate.

Flea said it best: I'm a little pea I love the sky and the trees I'm a teeny tiny little ant Checkin out this and that And I am nothing oooooooh So you have nothing to hide And I'm a pacifist So I can fuck your shit up Oh yeaaaaaah I'm small. Oh yeaaaaaaaaah I'm smaaaall. FUCK YOU asshole, You homophobic redneck dick. Big and tough and macho you can kick my ass So fucking what? So fucking what? So fucking what? So fucking what? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Honestly; why is everyone so goddamn retarded? Am I the only one with an ounce of grey matter between my ears? FUCK!!! I HATE SCHOOL!!!!

I fucking hate my life. I hate myself. I hate this world. I hate all the cures out there, even the uninvented ones. Fuck the cure for cancer. Fuck this life. Fuck all my wasted opportunites. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck the establishment, fuck school, fuck it all. I wanna see it all go up in one huge, smoking, flaming, burning, bright fucking red blaze of glory. Right now, all I can picture in my head is one big, huge middle finger, raised and defiant, proclaiming my anger, cynicism, and rage to the entire world. There is no point to anything in the long run. No one can hope to do anything in this life. No one will ever make a difference in this world. We're all fucked in the end. Even Ghandi was just polishing the brass on the Titanic. Life is one big, huge load of bullshit wrapped up in a pretty bow, but hey, some people really like pretty bows. Well I don't. Fuck bows. I've never been a girly girl. I fucking hate bows. And ribbons. Fuck ribbons too.

Holy fucking shit there's a journal on here that is so fucking sweet. Wow I just read the lyrics to "In Your Room" by Depeche Mode and the song officially makes me horny as hell. heh heh heh. Running off to be by myself now ;-)