Rotted Vile Hole

There is no hope. There is no help.

Longer than the usual have weathered the wear, each moment something to be selected and discarded. One foot in front of the other, watch life curdle and die before innocent eyes, what hope can be dashed that has not started inside? It’s where it always is.

Stuck in a mire. Guilt. Time and time again the message is lost against the bones they fall on, the need replaced with the desire. One person lies, the other smiles. The other again smiles ’till death. See it lurking? Writing through the thick shades.

Light a luxury, the future holds the lies of all kinds dear- unknown, realized, or otherwise. Familiar faces vomit ugly words as they continue to forget to listen. Apathy realized, there is nothing but a fleeting odor of rot. Hollow and lifeless. Empty and hopeless.

Where is the waiting? Always waiting. Fatigue. Despair. Guilt. Terror as the inescapable becomes accepted. Submission. Envied, spiteful submission. Jealousy.

Hiding where we should thrive.

I’ve lost my patience.

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Dark Hope

Human matters have become more and more alien to me.

There is no purpose in this pathetic life. Why do you breathe? Why do I? I don’t have any reasons except the need to find a reason every day I draw breath. Why? I don’t know. I truly don’t.

I guess friends and family can stay the tide of self harm. But when does that cease being effective? Or when does it stop offering comfort?

This world and its people deserve to die and burn in the fires of unimaginable agony to pay for all the terrible, horrible destruction and corruption we have plagued this planet with. All my endeavors are tainted by my own humanity, my own innate disgusting human- my species.

Watching the world with tired, angry eyes as the humans scurry around me, worried about problems that I will never care about. When I am told by someone that they purchased a new car, I truly don’t care about your pathetic achievement. I took a shit today. They are on par. When I am told by someone that they love their job, I want to suffocate them with my fists, jam them down their ignorant throats and fist fuck their face until death. Why? I don’t fuckin’ know. Envy? Jealousy? Frustration? Anger? You pick. When someone gushes about a new product they’ve purchased, or an inconvenience they’ve suffered, or the dues that they no longer have to pay my only answer to them is SHUT THE FUCK UP.

That’s the answer I have for myself most days. Not today.

Ever spent some time in the burning purgatory of retail? What about customer service? If one wants to find out how petty, useless, and pathetic the human race is, enter the working world and listen to what people complain about. Are they valid? Or empty? It doesn’t matter because they will tell you if it is or not. And you must believe it. They will abuse and berate you, and you must exercise control.

I knew a greeter for Sam’s Club once. Vietnam veteran. He asked an individual for his club card as he entered one day, and the individual spit on him and said, “I don’t have to show you a fuckin’ thing.”

Because he took that abuse, he kept his job. Was it worth it? Fuck what you know. When others complain, I cannot listen. Mostly because there is too much running around in my mind and coherent thought is a luxury most days. I complain. Right now, I’m complaining. And I am just as useless as the rest because I am doing NOTHING about how I feel. I am letting myself feel miserable, and every day I recognize this means nothing. Nothing beyond self awareness. But I am functional.

I found my hatred bare one day before I adopted it into my soul. Hatred starts scared. Tiny, puny, shrinking from conflict. I took it in, sheltered it, and it became a part of me as I nurtured it with fear and watched in horror as it grew into a black, endless rage thickened by depression and despair.

In this world. This shitty, terrible fuckhole of a gaping diseased asshole we call modern society, there are people working actively to make it worse. Are you one of them? If yes, kill yourself.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t tied my own noose yet.

 

Concede

Sensations of relinquishment as the current of life pulls a tiny carcass under into the dark water.

Facing every challenge with a preconceived notion of failure. Failure because there is nothing that inflicts real feeling in a sea of grey indifference. Stare at everything in deep apathy. It’s all a lie. It’s all false. What is considered to be proper is poison. Proper, legal poison. Sanctioned, labeled, and identified.

What we have is stupid. It is a collection of ideas, items, and metaphors that dictate every single action. What does this look like?  Take a look at your blessings. Do they matter? No. It is all futile. Participate, or be exiled. Assimilate.

I hate my life. Every second of it. I’ve tried to feel different. Say different. But I hate it. More specifically, I hate living my life. Waking up in the morning is the worst part of my day because I am conscious once more. After waking, all I can think about is not being here.

Dreams are corrosive. They linger and destroy everything else that exists in an individual’s path. Dreams will fail because you will fail. Dreams are ignorant. Dreams die, just like hope. Love. Joy. It all dies, and we are expected to live in spite of it. Live. What a cruel word.

Only a in a world like this can we use such an inaccurate word as “live.” Humans don’t live, we excrete. The lives we have are short and pathetic, filled with nothing in between birth and death. Happiness an illusion, fabricated by a mind unwilling to die. There is no “living” anymore. People merely exist, and wait to be shoved on to the next retarded thing that they deem overly important.

Live. Life. These words are vile. The two shouldn’t even be in the same sentence, let along have a similar meaning. You can’t live life anymore! Are you insane? One can only have a life. Living comes when you’re dead.

Words are vile in general. Especially when used in lies, like “I’ll always be there for you.” That’s an impossibility, and not even on the tangible side. I hate this phrase. I hate it because it is an inherit lie. Even when I say it, I know it’s a lie.

They will all abandon sooner or later. They forget about what has been done, said, or bestowed. “What do I do? ~ I don’t know.” “I feel so helpless!” ~ “I’m sorry.” “I need your help!” ~ “You must believe in yourself!”

If that is the case, at least have the courtesy  of telling me you have no intention of paying attention. But then again, what’s wasted time but air and frustration? I don’t know. Right? The universal answer to every question ever asked by a desperate person to an idiot? “I DON’T KNOW.”

Of course you don’t know. But you offered help anyway. Help that you weren’t ready to give or understand, but you did it anyway. Don’t ask stupid questions. Don’t say stupid answers. Just don’t say. Be fucking silent because I am certain you have nothing useful to say.

I am tired of listening to people “just trying to help” because THEY DON’T HELP. In fact, in the most turbulent times of my life, I would turn to others and find their help lacking and disinterested. Here’s the part where I insert something inspirational, right? To keep things light? No. There is no light here. No help. No love. There is only apathy and ignorance, the true National Anthem. Hell, make it a Global Anthem, it still applies for fuck’s sake.

I am waiting to die.

 

 

Don’t Help

Once a mistake has been made, it is impossible to correct the ripples it made after coming in contact with an individual’s life.

Scared and lonely. Guilty. There are feelings that one can suppress, and their are feelings that one cannot indulge. In the middle, there are destructive entities that personify when we are suffering. Apply civilization to all problems, and all problems shall be solved. Apply business to all problems, and all problems shall be solved. Apply a mortal god to all problems, and all problems shall be solved.

People often help others with no concept of anything. Often, humans are so useless that our efforts to help another individual may be spurned, punished, or misdirected. Helping others is what ruins a life. An individual is seen as an incomplete person without autonomy, an individual who receives help is perceived as weak, and the individual that administers help is either a saint, or an asshole depending on which direction the fickle winds of shit-stained fate decide to blow their foul wind.

A society today is based on irreplaceable hypocrisy. It is only viable to help others when it is in direct benefit to you. That is the society that humans exist in. There is no help without a price. Those plying a free ride are liars, murders, or predators, meant to be drowned in the current of bullshit that flows from their throats. Some people who receive help forget it just as quick, and those who remember are struck down with the guilt of their dependence on someone else.

To summarize. Helping others is seen only as good when it is not bad. That is pathetic.

How often are those who ply aid plainly incorrect? I’ve taken plenty of bad advice because I was too scared to believe that I could be the architect of my own life. I’ve never made a single decision I’ve made. I’ve only done what I thought would help me survive, or just be left alone. Now there is only regret.

Regret. Guilt. Denial of repetition. Acceptance. Modification. Re-application. It is a sick wheel that those who don’t understand capitalism are trapped within. Now for all the helpful (read: useless) advice that people vomit:

“It’ll be okay.” “That IS your job.” “I’m sorry.” “That’s life!” “That’s the way it goes.” “I hope you feel better.” “That’s just how that person is.” “You gotta take a little abuse in your life.” “You’ll grow out of it.” “You’ll feel better as you grow older.” “It hurts less with age.” “Let it go!” “Snap out of it.” “Smile.” “That’s the way the world works.” “That’s the way it’s always been done.” “How’s your diet?” “Don’t lose/gain any more weight!” (but please make sure it always stays in perfect flux to avoid criticism) “There’s room to grow here!” “That’s just to start.” “Next time.” “It’ll all work out in the end.” “You don’t do that in society.” “Don’t feel that way.” “You’re stupid for feeling this way.” “Again?!”

Disconnected and useless, these phrases uttered in passing to an individual that is suffering is more insulting and hurtful than actually being ignored, which is modern society in a nutshell: apathy. Even when we care, we are apathetic, focused on our own dreams, urges, and well-being. Can we do both? Can we help others and ourselves? Or should everyone just shut the fuck up and do it themselves?

It’s not any one answer. The planet has been getting fucked up for billions of years, and now that we’ve noticed it, everyone is trying to come up with a universal answer. There isn’t one because you aren’t helping anyone because the notions invented in modern science are deemed successful based on how much money that can be made off them. Can one really think that such an old, archaic, cruel establishment can be changed with one answer? One person? I will not be the first to die in vain during the spark of pseudo-revolution. The world has enough innocent victims suffering and dying for no reason.

Modern society and humanity is built around the preservation of sick and dying things. It is all we do as a species. We repair unsafe machines that should be scrapped. We scramble to ensure that a dying business remains alive, even at the expense of our own real, tangible health; mental and otherwise. We let loved ones linger in traction while we listen to their last, horrid breaths when in fact, we should have the guts to grant them a death to be proud of. We abstain from euthanasia for our pets because the process of loss is too painful. Modern society itself is sick and dying; and humans of all shapes, sizes, and incomes are trying to breathe life into something that should be drowned in a toilet next to fresh semen stains plastered to the stall around a truck stop gloryhole. We literally kill others to keep a dying concept on life support. Here’s the thing with life support- whatever is being kept alive HAS TO DIE. HAS TO DIE. DEATH. Read it, get fucking used to it.

Death is not quick. It is not merciful. If it is quick, it is often extremely violent. A peaceful death does not exist because death isn’t in the dying; it’s the slow slide on a locked decline toward a pair of gaping black jaws in the pit of god. In all my experience with death, the dying would be better honored dead.

Want to help someone? Here’s my advice: “It’ll all work out in the end.”

 

 

 

Fear

Hearts beat furious held in unsure panic; fear has taken grip again. There is no reason other than living…the guilt of being born. Our only true sin.

Terror holds with a tightening grip. The moments tick by as fear pushes toward the final moment, the final endless moment when terror swirls and fogs the vision of the path before you. One cannot even walk such a thing when blinded by fear. Choking, cloying, clotted.

I want to stand where I am and never move again. I want to watch the world continue as I wither and die in spite of it. I want to wash in my terror, indulge it, become petrified by it. Safe, hollow, and utterly alone. Does a shell matter?

Hollow.

Negativity can fill the holes that fear leaves, more specifically fear corrupting into doubt. The black, tarry emotions that destroy seek such a vacuum- they are looking something to hold on to. Like terror.

I am scared. I can feel it inside my stomach, raising toward the top of my neck to inflict that little pinch before the point of no return. I can feel it. I can feel it. The anxious hope that it will disappear only to continue. Don’t expect support because those who cower in fear are splattered in this world and their last moments of indignity are recorded and sold for a tiny profit.

Lost lives litter these lost paths wandering and frozen within the melancholy of imperfect nostalgia. Scared about things they have not completed, scared about doing things that they have not completed, scared to see things they haven’t seen. These are the bodies that walk alive. They are shells. Hollow. Filled with emptying fear.

I want to remove my eyes and start screaming, screaming and laughing as I remove more and more of myself, destroying all my senses until there is nothing but. Fear. Then…maybe then. I’ll be free.

 

 

 

The Lie of Mental Healthcare

Mental illness has gone from fiction to trendy since it was first observed. It is always undermined, seen without gravity, and the injuries it leaves are not tangible, therefore the suffering is lesser. Humanity decides that mental health is something that only a few people are allowed to possess. They are allowed to possess it because of many reasons, like privilege, luck, genes. Some individuals can generate their own happiness, their own self-love simply by being alive. These people are lauded and celebrated, often until the point they kill themselves.

We are all sick. Every human is a tangled knot of disgusting, vile urges and regrets that we try to control through civilization. This mental illness is the greatest, for we all subscribe to it and at the same time, deny its impact or existence.

People cannot help the mentally ill. There is no hope for them. There is no help for them. Truly, because mental illness doesn’t exist yet. Not even amongst mental health professionals and other doctors alike, mental illness is a pathetic label used to market it to us as another keyboard warrior cause, to distract from those really suffering, to subdue and discard the unwanted pieces of society. When in fact, by this method, we should all be discarded.

Speaking with others to help mental illness is not always the best avenue, either. There are many times when people are just too obtuse, ignorant, or just plan thick to understand and actually help someone with mental illness. Rather, it is easier to support them from afar and then medicate and imprison once the mental illness has finally become bad enough to warrant recognition. As always, when this occurs, it is too late to help that person.

Those suffering with mental illness should not take heart. Should not find hope. There is no hope, the only hope is death if the ability to cope or heal is destroyed because the only help those sane enough to receive comes from within, something no-one is told about until it is too late. Until they are too damaged, too medicated, too hopeless to continue. The mind will be there until death finally stops tagging that soul along and reminds them that it was always there, guiding them. The trouble with the entire process is that no-one can help the mentally ill because no-one takes it seriously. No-one takes it seriously until it has impact on them, and that is the key.

Bullying is a popular trend now, many humans like to ride the concept of “being against bullying” to appear chic, compassionate, and moral. These humans are part of the problem, exacerbating the collective mental illness of civilization because of the cause. The “bullying cause”, like any other awareness campaign, has motives, failures, and misconceptions. The mental illness generated by the public school systems is inflicted; pushing children into tiny compartments to shame, drill, and destroy them until they are the proper shade of miserable to be a functioning adult. Bullying directly causes mental illness, but its label belies a lack of severity. In fact, bullying is verbal abuse at its core/beginning- the motives as to why probably steeped in just as much mental illness as it inflicts, but the “bullies” and the “victims” gain sympathy, but not help. They gain an awareness ribbon, but not help. They get recognition on Facebook, but no help. They get encouraging phrases, idioms, and quotes, but no help. Not help.

Sympathy not help. Sometimes not even sympathy, empathy at best, apathy at worse. The apathy of modern civilization should be called mental illness. The violence, the revulsion, the cruelty, the greed of civilization and industry is seen as positive. The apathy, and then the understanding and automatic forgiveness of an individual for doing something despicable “for the best of the business.” The progress of humanity and the deletion of our morality marks civilization- a concept that is sick inherently. The mark of civilization should not be in how big it is, but how mild it is. How supportive it is. How it treats others. By this indication, civilization is a brutal lie that is killing people right this secon.

Labels are applied to mental illness so that someone can come up with some kind of haphazard treatment plan in order to even remotely help the afflicted- depression, panic disorder, ADD, bi-polarism, schizophrenia, all cute little nicknames that highlight, almost in a comedic light, the underlying problem of disinterest and lack of understanding. Most would think that is where civilization’s focus should be, considering that all individuals are afflicted with mental illness as a direct result of it doesn’t matter. Considering that all people live and die, feel happy and feel sad, the focus of civilization and humanity in general would be to help understand these finer points to make an entire society healthier, mentally and physically.

Instead, humans are driven and brainwashed by everything around them (which includes self brainwashing, auto-hypnosis, media, family, friends, society, work, school) that instead, does not matter if the true goal of civilization was to be civilized. It is not- look at how the globe treats its mentally ill. Its elderly. Its animals. The brain, the human mind, is seen as an object, and if the timing is right, or a product. Tapping into the flow of dark greed and innocent blood that is consumerism, anything can be made into a product. A commodity. Something to sell. When money is involved, all parties involved should have their motives inspected with extreme prejudice and questioned at all time. If an individual is willing to spend thirty years of their life working for an individual they may very possibly never meet again and then smile and say “thank you” after they have been laid off without a warning is insane. Talk about mental illness.

With that said, how much can an individual be trusted? A person willing to work at a job they hate for the majority of their life; sometimes they never even meet the person they are doing the job for, and then smile and say “thank you” when they are fired and handed their last paycheck is just as insane as an individual caught within denial. Caught within psychosis. It is a sick, and tragic civilization that can kill a person and have them still work a shift, and then tell them their mental pain isn’t real. Tell them that their physical pain is inconsequential to their job, a job that in reality has no real importance other than what they have been told that is important. Worst of all, humanity wants this even though it denies it at the same time.

Help for the mentally ill is a cruel statement because it doesn’t exist. Help. Anything. Unless there is monetary, or morality prize at the end of it. It won’t be until civilization leaves behind its definition of sanity that those suffering will see aid, and that this disgusting, cyclopean, colossal idea of what modern society calls progress and prosperity is dead and rotting just above all the bodies it helped bury.

Grandpa’s Pistol

An unloaded gun placed upon your forehead by your own hand grants a slice of perspective that you can take all the way to hell with you.

Potential is what’s scary. The concept of just turning it off. There is an exciting side to it, it must be said. Humans think they know everything, but one thing they can at least feign ignorance on is death. Sure, humans know that the body rots. It breaks down. Identification of the necrophages that feast upon the remains, a name? Gender, age- they can be added, calculated, surmised, addendumed and chronicled. It’s the moment between the final heartbeat and the last breath, where the body is still alive but struggling against the damage done. That moment will ever be hidden to us.

Smell the rot of a body on the road. It’s easy- humans kill things without even trying they’re so godamn useless. Roadkill in summer, a special nostalgia it carries with it. The stink is what can be remembered, but not because it is foul. It’s the confrontation of death, the confrontation of mortality n’ rot. That’s what’s special. In the beginning, it is easy to be repulsed by such odors. The odor of decay is never pleasant regardless of what is breaking down.

Pleasant, however. It can be enjoyed in a non-traditional sense. It is a reminder of death, the only consequence that humanity can understand. It is also penance- pay for your guilt by witnessing suffering and death and you too can be cleansed in the righteous pain that you yourself have inflicted. This is something good, but there is another side that is utterly hopeless through ignorance.

Why suffer? It’s a question that must be asked sooner or later. We all have reasons why we choose to avoid, or embrace suffering and self-torment. Is it just routine? A role that can be learned over time and patience? I don’t care.

Suffering is universal. From the lowliest cell to the mightiest creature, suffering is there from birth ’till death, metaphorical and tangible. Delay is inevitable. It is all mortality can ever hope for when reaching for immortality. Rot is inevitable. So is suffering. Suffering carries with it a beauty that is never seen simply because it is hidden below the misery that blinds humans to the world around them, to the world within.

Gun oil, time, dry rot, leather, wisdom, old spice, soap, an unending smile. Nostalgia creeps in even when the gun is placed against your head.

How do you picture your death? Is it beautiful? Peaceful? Is it a wish, your death? Are you the type that wishes to go without pain? I have seen death plenty of times to know that most die in agony, illness, or misery. Will you still smile when it is the final moment between your body living to your body dying? Smell the rot and see if you can still grin.