Destroy the silence

pathetic is but a opinion

2007-09-16T14:35:00.000-07:00

Time to wipe the dust from my eyes.

today I'm busy and in pain, but I want to be dirty, romantic, free, wise. In another sleepless night It will be Monday. I hate Mondays ( who doesn't?) I hate every day. I fail to see the difference among them. I think one could barely call them days as if they are some unique event. The only difference is the range of pain, happiness, or the feeling of nothingness gripping, no choking, you with every empty pointless conversation between every redundant trip to somewhere to do something in order to get something usaully far off and never attained. I never felt true freedom but I miss it. Too depressing, emo, "real", un optimistic for you? Well fuck you get over it.

I always hear about how people wonder what they would be like with out their friends
I wonder what I would be like with friends. I wonder if I am better off, or doomed to failure. Every friendless day leading up to heartbreak, depression, and guilt in the future. Needless to say it scares the shit out of me, which makes things worst. I hate to be pitied by most so that eliminates another possibility of friendship. I dont cry, I dont fall I just think, walk and explode.

Lifes a riot

2007-09-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

A big fucking absurd riot...

I think it should be a art form the way I hack relationships. So effortlessly, skipping through them violently shaking and twitching. vomiting my own heart and soul with every empty small talk. Techno pop choke the dance floor of life, I cant keep up; its not even my "scene" actaully.

Today I'm stupid, lonely, annoyed, and bond to fuck something up.

2007-08-23T22:28:00.000-07:00

A brilliant post card. One of the best I seen. Its very relatable, while at least for me.

There creepy and their parents are worst

I bet he does.....It seems during prayer he might have more then just god on his mind lol

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Suicidal god: by me

Feeling to well known
but yet so alone
omnipotent and incompetent
Puppet to our more unbalanced ventriloquists
your audience is for the refined elitists
they love you when you are on the stag doing your distinctive song and dance of miracles
When your not, they throw you in that dusty chest.
Your haughty virgins lead
To cold empty beds
We hate there for you are
Take that gun to the head
and dare to truly die for me

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Two new poem thingys

Do not dare comment me to memory

Help, I have lost another friend
No, I didn’t mean to do it this time
Be my friend and don’t help me
I don’t want to hurt another soul
My brides don’t burn they explode
I have lost my self in the darkness
Be a friend and don’t bother
Loyalty is but a word to me
I’ be your Judas I swear
But, I won’t admit I’m wrong
Yeah I think that I might break all alone
But we are both better off that way

My church

My church isn’t some stuffy building that reeks of nihilism
That comes equipped with a hazardous steeple
One that is always calling for more then just lighting to strike its congregations lives.
Didn't work for me. Got old quickly
You see, I wasn’t into paying just to seat
Viewing a over rated play with slight changes every 8^th day
Hell was a beautiful thing
Regrettably, the price to hear about it wasn’t adding up
Besides, scary flicks get me off a lot faster.
It’s all the same right?
A little virgin blood here, a little endless torture there
Give or take a savior or two
My new church could have been my living room.
Could have been but its not
You see, my new church has shinny-hypnotizing floors
It has aisles full of promises of fulfillment
Unbelievably I can actually touch these counterfeit promises
However, they come incased with metal or plastic shells with “technology” stringed through them
This then is incased in resilient packaging
A special gift sent down from the great trinity of corporations to test my limited patience
The hymns are harmonic ka-clings mixed with soft rock
In my new church when the Holy Ghost gets a hold of you, it will never let go
Buyer’s remorse is just a result of a lack of faith,
Once it got you, you can’t be held accountable for your action
Buying one thing is never good enough
How about two, three, or four,
You know that tingly feeling in your brain that comes along with a sense of accomplishments. Don’t fight it!
In my church, it’s the main draw in.
Trust me you aren’t a true “consumer” until you feel that even when you are bankrupt.
Hell is unpopularity and heaven will never be achieved.
That doesn’t deter me though,
Sale signs pop up every once a month like a daily communion to restore my faith in the church.
Would you like to know more?

One new comic I made. Its simple its about a boy and his imaginary friend because thats all he has.

some of my other pictures.

postsecret

2007-08-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

My favs from this Sundays postsecret

T.I. (f/ Wyclef Jean) My swag

2007-08-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

REMIX!!! OR sorta by me

I'm the man from torment, to way out in bmore
Catch me in New Jersey, I'm on the way to Virginia
I be in columbine, then catch me in New York
I settle barely, I'll sleep when I'm buried
What I need some sleep for? This hate got me geeked up
I went to Virginia and made headlines for days bru'
These reporters can't keep up
cause they just saw me in Tacoma
Or out in Lancaster County, boy that time it was grusome
Every day I become more cumbersome
I ain't sleep for years
Next you'll catch me on the streets with lady liberty
and a selection of demons
I get that work done like back when slavary
was still democratically acceptable. Bravery
ain't shit to me
See the pain what move me, morals don't phase me
so you'll better save your breath, before you upset me

(Tell 'em why cause I) Been around the worrrrrld
Traveled the seven seas (and I be)
Poppin bottles with divorcées (so you can find me)
Depressed as usaul, smokin everything I see (ay, oh-ay-ay)
Girls around the worrrrrld (yo, yo)
They keep callin me (they call me)
their superman I could never be
Their childern nothing but tools to me
It's my swaaaaag (they wonder what's so special 'bout him)
(Why they cant stop my authority, tell 'em)
It's my swaaaaag (how he always look so grim)
(That why e'rybody do what he do, tell 'em)
Gotta be my swaaaaag (they wonder why he wear such hoodies)
(When girls see him why they act like that, ay, I don't know)
It's my swaaaaag (for some reason all the loners understand him)
(Even though the world wanna hang him, I guess)
Gotta be my swaaaaag!!)

New PostSecret Mini-Movie

2007-08-12T18:34:00.000-07:00

The new post secret mini movie. The music is soulful and embracing but it could be just one soundtrack of many. Who says reveling secrets, even painful ones ( actually what secret or memory isn't painful or emotional. If they weren't we would forget them. They then would be nothing but forgotten events of a long life time.) has to be tearfully heartbreaking. I can see a hard rock, non emo.., track playing in the back ground, but maybe thats just me. Anyway, actually they aren't really secrets, more confessions of harmonizing sheep. A certain sheep who had a event or thought in their life that was less then "normal" or socially acceptable. When we feel these thoughts and events to be abnormal and tragic we really are just furthering the insulation and misunderstanding of humans. Either way I still like that site and most of the secrets ,especially the religious ones.

My poem/what ever the hell it is

2007-08-12T13:54:00.001-07:00

My poem/what ever the hell it is

Dear mom,

I have been going through changes
Nevertheless, you do not seem to notice.
My world is crashing around me
Yet you help not
Instead you put good use of that sledgehammer you call “religion”
“You’re talking crazy again. I don’t have time for this”
No mommy don’t hit me, please just listen

The illness is breeding in me
With every injection of you delusions and scorns
I am sick of being you resident patient
Your placebos aren’t working, can’t you see.
My demons have become my friends.

“How dare you say that? I rebuke you!”

No mommy don’t hit me, please just listen.
I was trying to be nice, respectable, and understandable
But fuck that shit, you sick delusional woman.
Your fears are becoming my future
Your delusions my clutch
I’m disturbed and torn no wonder I can’t sleep at night

Yeah, well lets k-keep it real
I’m a manic depressed, isolated hermit, who whole life was played out In the upper underappreciated role called “the black sheep”
I am a rebel, a true one; I find most claims to “truth” a bunch of shit. They couldn’t be further from the truth.
No black make-up for me or over priced dark hoodies. My love is the truth and it isolates me enough from the world. I need no extra compensation.

I could give a good Goddamn (oh good lord, so rude) about your religion, your god, or your heaven.
Heaven is meaningless to a person who whole life was consumed with inverted emotions.
To your hatred, and many peoples, I learned to deal with them, grow from them with out the help of your “god”.
Wishful thinking is for the beaten and weaken cowards among people like me.
You see, When you birth a rebel you can’t teach it
Only scorn, beat, and belittle, in efforts to tame it.
Inertly making it strong more willed, cleverer, mature.
Under the right situations, along with proper inherited genes, you can create an ingenuous monster that devours your lies, gods, morals, false history reenactments,
and bring the truth to the surface.
From under the rotting mess, you call a good life, good deeds, and good people.

What you wont do I will, what you sow I will reap.
I will walk through your hell to find the truth, to ease my pain.
I will receive the badge I deserve for my deeds.
“Another ingénues child bears the bewildering labyrinth called “truth” with exasperating results” is what the headlines should read.
Instead, they lazily like blasphemers say, “Another teen cuts his wrist like discounted cookie dough (wrong way) oh lord when will it stop?”

When will you learn every death has its purpose, nothings a waste? Your disrespectable look on life is repulsive.
For god so loved the world he sent his annoying judgmental believers to speared nihilism around the world like a cheap whore. She stinks and wobbles, its time for her to die. Bang bang………………..
Welcome back to the dark ages, maybe this time around we will get it right.

Best regards,
Your son

2007-08-12T13:52:00.001-07:00

My fav of this sundays "post secret"