The Ghost Stalker

I see her face
in every part of the house.

She's stalking me
like a prowling ghost.

And just like the dead,
she's no longer
here
in the flesh.

There's no more calls,
emails,
or texts.

She's finally
rid of me.

Is this what
I wanted?

Could there have been
another way?

I guess I could have stayed
and continued
our twisted love.

I guess sometimes
things just
don't work out.

She likes fantasy.

We both did,
except our dreams
clashed.

I can't believe in
true love.

That's all she thinks about.

There were times when
I did feel
it.

Then, there were times when
there was only
pain.

Nothing else.

I couldn't stand to hurt
her
anymore.

I couldn't stand
how much
she believed in
true love.

Especially, when
it wasn't
there.

I admit,
I was selfish
and like a fool
will remain so.

I deserve to be alone
forever
with her ghost
forever
stalking me.

I Miss You Buddy

I woke up
in some random
car.

It was filthy.
Paper and trash
everywhere.

I decided to clean up.

After a couple of minutes,
My friend, Burnside,
arrives
with some of his friends.

They were in shock
to find me doing some
spring cleaning,
watching as their trash
and personal belongings
fly out the window.

"Ray,"
Burnside yelled,
"What the fuck are you doing?"

I didn't answer.
Instead,
I stumbled out
and gave them all
a hug.

"Let's go!"

Not sure where it came from,
but we got in the cab
and they
pushed me up front.

Of course,
I threw up.

Nobody knew it
at the time,
but when we got out,
they could see streaks
of vomit
on my shirt
and pants.

I laughed.

They looked at me
with disgust.

When we got back
to the house,
I changed
and they offered me
some lines.

I accepted
and immediately felt
a bolt of lightning
charging through my veins.

I was ready to party.

"What's wrong with you?"
They asked.

I didn't respond,
just sniffed away.

That's when everyone
left
including my good friend.

That's the last time
I saw him.

It might be
the last time
I ever see him
again.

I don't mind,
we had our run
and man,
we sure did go out
on top,
or at least
I did.

Either way,
I miss you buddy.

Impossibilities

It's impossible
to please everyone.

They will crush
your heart,
your creativity,
just because
they know they can.

You see,
sometimes,
everything doesn't go their way,
that's when they see
you're sensitive,
they see
your every weakness
and attack,
relentlessly,
completely fuck
your dreams
in the ass
during the worst
of your depressions.

It's all simple
You see,
you don't fit
their mold,
maybe
you never have.

What you consider
practice
and a honing
of your craft,
working on it
everyday waking second
of your life,
they consider uncool
and lame
and stupid.

Ah yes,
but
that was never the point
to you.

You never were
TRYING
to get anyone's approval,
there's no need for you to
CONSTANTLY
seek approval,
you see,
can't you fucking see,
it's impossible
to live up to their
expectations.

Impossible.

All you ever
wanted to do
was dream,
maybe one day
you can
be someone,
you can
do something,
maybe even
be proud of yourself,
maybe for once
you can forget
about working shitty jobs
you can forget
that you are just scribbling on paper,
writing useless poems or ideas,
but it's impossible.

Fucking impossible.

Even the ones you love
will eat your dreams.

I mean
just fucking put them
on the frying pan
and burn 'em
and put 'em down their throats
whole
and shit 'em out
and flush 'em away.

They didn't even bother
wiping away
the crumbs,
they left them there
and went on with their merry way
as if nothing has happened.

I guess nothing
has happened,
it's just another speed bump
among the forever expanding
labyrinth
of bumps in life
or at least,
this it what
you tell yourself.

You try and forget about it
and move on,
but for once
it bothers you, it bothers the complete fuck out of you,
and you thought it was impossible.

You were
ACTUALLY
seeking their approval.

They didn't care,
they went on
sounding cool and
being cool
and fucking everything
cool,
pointing out everything
that sucks
and making everyone else
join them,
altogether saying
look at this shit,
fucker aint like us,
shit
he's a tool,
a faggot.

You shake your head and realize
It was impossible
to seek their approval
from the beginning,
you remember
that's how it all started,
that's what inspired you
in the first place,
it's what gives you
inspiration now,
to continue to push the boundaries,
continue to fuck with their heads,
to never be cool
to forever be lame
and misunderstood,
to forever
live your life
the way
you want to
through all of these
impossibilities,
and to forever forgive
and love those,
who inspire you
and to forever
thank them
because without them,
you might not ever
be true
to yourself.

Can't you hear me?!!!

Forever be true to yourself,
do whatever the fuck you want,
no matter how weird
or lame,
and don't worry about
pleasing them,
that's impossible.

How many times
do i have to say it?

It's fucking impossible!!!!!!!!!

It's goddamn fucking IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!

There Are Better Options

Suicide.

I guess this is what I wanted.

The cowardly way out
took some effort.

I had to kill
cat after cat after cat after cat
and sodomize some of the elderly.

I was considered
unfit.

Suicide,
sure,
my punishment,
as they called it.

Coffin torture,
to be exact

They came into my home,
dragged my naked body into the street,
shoved me in a metal coffin,
and hung me out
to die.

It's here I have remained,
scared shitless
and pathetic,
but getting the inevitable
done.

There are some
factors
I didn't consider.

Humiliation is a constant occurrence.

Little kids
throw rocks at me
and stab my dick
with lil pointy sticks.

Full grown adults
spit on me
and lift up their dogs,
so they can chew on my flesh.

I guess it gives me
a bit of entertainment
till I meet my demise.

For 40 days,
wait only 40 days?

They have been loving my death.

They wish I could be tortured
forever.

Hell, I wish I could too.

It beats
paying bills,
washing my hair,
and listening to you
and your stupid shit.

Being stuck here
has, in fact, been a blessing,
it gives me time to watch humanity
turn into filth.

It makes me wonder,
How people can live with themselves?
How long can they go on like this?

One day,
they'll all wish to be in here,
they'll all wish for suicide.

I'm going to yell at them,
"Get over it people!!!!
Life is short!!!!!
Too short!!!!
Wake up
or die with me!!!!"

Stab, stab,
spit, spit.

Oh well,
it's useless,
I doubt they will ever hear me.

Time for me to go.

I hope the dead
have something better to offer
than all of you.

No Brain, No Problem

Jesus and I
Had a penis transplant.

His cock is impressive
And now ladies,
It’s holiness is all mine.

My mammoth meat
Is so soft,
So pleasurable,
I love to stroke it
Day and night,
And in my dreams,
I grab it for protection,
Ready to piss out
Liquid lords
At any heretic
Threatening my sleep
With blasphemous nightmares.

Awake,
I’m always ready to spread
My seed.
I’m willing to give thousands of women
Babies,
I’ll fuck you
Raw,
Even if you have a disease.

My blessed meat slug is invincible,
Almost.

I remain disease free,
But just like with any other prick,
There’s problems.

I can’t get it up.

It takes too much blood
To erect
And I start to faint
When its fully stacked.
It sucks all my energy away,
But that never bothered me.

I have faith.

However, it does bother the ladies.
It’s just too damn big.
The power of Christ does not compel them.

No worries,
I have a secret weapon,
My slithering tongue,
Which of course
Used to belong
to the devil.

Now ladies,
It’s wickedness is all mine.

My clit massager
Is so fast,
So pleasurable,
And I will never get tired,
I can work it
Day and night,
And in your dreams,
You will feel nothing,
But heat and passion.

The only thing women
Might dread
Is my excessive use of
Obscenities and verbal abuse
Directed towards them.

These problems
Are none
Of my concern.

My soul be damned
Or blessed?

Both,
For all I care.
I have the best
Of both worlds
And I can make
ANY
Woman cum
With the flick of my tongue
Or a quick pump.

The only thing
I think I’m missing
Is a brain.

I don’t know what’s wrong,
I start searching for one,
But somehow always get distracted
With pussy.

I can’t help it
That’s just who I’ve become,
It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be,
An undeniable sex machine.

Fuck it.

I don’t need a brain.

No one ever has.

Let me repeat,
No one ever has.

Praise be the Lord.

Hail Satan.

They're Still Around

Hatred shined bright
in the California sun.
I could see it in his blue eyes,
I could smell it on his breath.

You fucking beaner,
stammered out of his chapped lips.

I couldn't hear him,
my ears were stuffed
with the serenity of music.

I only smiled.

He expected me to respond with the same hatred
that's been gnawing on his soul
since he can remember.

I didn't give him the satisfaction,
just strolled right past him,
leaving him ashamed of his own ancestral blood
boiling inside him.

Leave Me Buried

The doorbell rang.

I went to answer,
Expecting a midget selling cookies.

To my surprise,
I saw Death
As clear as day.

She had tan skin,
Which I thought was weird,
And it was wrapped around
A curvaceous body
With gorgeous dark brown hair to match.

She was wearing tights,
A floral blouse,
High heels,
And more makeup 
than a flood could wash away.

Her scent,
A secret wonderland
And my blood shot eyes
Could not see her scythe,
It was hidden,
Probably in her purse.

I opened the door.

Whoo!
She looked good,
Fuckable good.

However, not one word was spoken,
She just walked right in,
Unpacked,
Took off her clothes,
And stayed in my bed.

I hopped right in with her
With an erection
Harder than Pluto.

She didn’t even sniff it.

She did nothing,
But sleep and smoke cigarettes
And wait…

She had patience.

Plenty of it.

Soon, I was sucked into her abyss
Of love.
I had no recollection
Of how I got trapped,
But there I was,
Right where she wanted
To leave me,
Not before one final kiss,
The kiss goodbye,
The kiss of death.

I’ve been rotting
Ever since.

No soul, no life, no money.

An empty wreck.

Her plan perfected.

She has moved on
To another man
Obsessed with good looks,
Desperate enough
To live with a woman
Who hides her scythe
In her purse.

I’ve moved on too.

Have fun with her.

Leave me alone,
Please leave me buried,
Forever resting in a casket,
Forever away from her.

Thanks for the Push

I have weaknesses
all around,
most
beyond my control,
constantly
growing in strength.

Others
get in on the action.

Thirsty for my insercurities.

Abandoned
and hopeless,
my mind gives in
to their will.

With time,
I am full
of fear
and agony,
unable to eat,
to breathe,
to live.

A hollow shell of misery
is where I reside,
waiting
to shatter.

One more mistake
is all
I need.

One more failure
is all
it will take.

One more step
I'll be off the cliff,
descending into the forgotten,
falling to pieces,
the way so many others
have done.

The way
they have been pushing me
since their birth.

Fireworks

Independence breeds pure stupidity
and drunkeness.

The smoke in the air
is billowing with anger.

The result
of this celebration,
is a man
kicking sand
into a child's face.

He inhales,
sand enters his lungs,
takes his last breath away.

The last glimpse of life
is the greatest sunset,
everlasting,
diminishing
before heavy eyelids.

His tragedy is marked
by explosions.

The signal
of death's arrival.

The last memories
of an unfulfilled life.

Cease Your Expectations

My ending
wasn't so bad.

A violent,
yet peaceful closure
for a cursed,
yet wonderful life.

The afterlife
is another story.

There's no happiness,
no sadness,
no laughter,
no anger,
no love,
no life,
nothing.

I'm just
a wandering soul,
drifting through
continuing lives,
watching
and waiting for an
eternal slumber
that might not ever come.

They
were all wrong.

I have long since
doubted
the presence of heaven,
of hell,
anywhere I can be held
as a prisoner
for an eternity.

Now
it's my reality.

Perhaps,
I'm contiuously searching
for a new life,
a new way back
to the living.

Perhaps,
I'll never make it.

My soul
will continue to drift
and search
until I meet the begginning
because
there is no end,
no eternal slumber,
and for all those years
I believed there was,
I wasted.

I should have lived in the moment,
instead of constantly worrying
about my future.

I should have,
I should have,
I should have...
forever
ceased my expectations.

Execution

The plan
was laid out
in a manner
of seconds.

There was no loopholes,
no escape.
It was perfect
through and through.

The perfect plot
for a murder.

I was going to kill him.
My hallucinatory mind
was set on it.

He was a dead man
trying
to mock the living.

His words,
his actions,
his presence
managed to irritate me
this much.

I felt,
in between
the toilet growing
and my skin melting,
the overwhelming urge
to strangle the life out of him
and bury him
in the woods.

He had to suffer.

He had to die.

I was his
executioner.

The Best Fucking Albums of 2011

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