The Great Purge

I have only one thing to say.


Detox is a bitch.

I Love You Till I Hate

It takes the greatest love to feel the greatest hate. 

So much energy in the capacity of ones own primal self.

A passion that burns throughout the countless ages 

has the potentiality to burn up all of life's infinite pages

Pages of laughter and pages of Light

pages of love and pages of joy.

The passion of the penned is the passion of the damned.

You can't hate anyone without loving them.

Someone Needs A Coping Mechanism

Your weakness destroys my center.

Like being thrown onto a carnival ride in full swing

 without any warning

Full speed ahead into the stomach churning unknown

Full speed into your fragile state

Full speed into my fury, my disdain for your lack of perception

Who cares that no one can see, with the ride spinning and spinning

So fast, gyrating around my hate

Your tired stare, your strength sapped by 

poorer living through chemistry

The bile rises in my throat while the ride keeps on

Stomach flying high with your state of mind

The disgust and the adrenaline and the fear and the elation and the rage and the wondering

Your weakness destroys my center. 

Benzo Heaven: Don't Be Nervous

There are two commercials I have seen lately that make me twitch.

Agorafruitcake.

Don't be nervous.

Don't be nervous. 

A new cocktail, the poster girl for better living through chemistry. 

It is time to fade and be faded,

To be done with outside reality

That has me so, so jaded

Faded like the photographs you left behind,

The remnants of our memories 

Which father was too blind

To see value in

Like the rest of us.

Born, your kin

But never his.

Faded,

Like the books upon the shelves

Aching for your touch, the way we all are

Struggling to find you

Somewhere in our faded selves.

Beautiful Girls

The supermodels... That's all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness. 

Why should her lover, just because he is male, be in a position to judge her against other women? Why must she need to know her position and hate needing to, and hate knowing? Why should his reply have such exaggerated power? The exchange reminds her that, in spite of a whole fabric of carefully woven equalities, they are not equal.