Because In Reality

I kill myself in small amounts,
in each relationship it's not about love.
Just another funeral and just another girl left in tears.

And I'm waiting
with the sound turned off I’m waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

I gave my soul to someone else
She must have known that it was already sold.
It was never about her,
it was about the hurt.

And I'm waiting
with the sound turned off I’m waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

I kill myself in small amounts in each relationship it's not about love.
Just another funeral and just another girl left in tears.

waiting with the sound turned off I'm waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

waiting....
waiting.....

fading....

gone, gone, gone

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

Have you ever thought about giving up. Maybe it's not about being unhappy, but just about nothing at all. That's all you feel. And that's all it will ever amount to. Why waste your time on someone who doesn't give a shit. Because that is all that it will ever be isn't it - just a WASTE of fucking TIME.

And it's so hard to trust anyone anymore. Let alone feel anything. I'm happy, but am I really. Do I really feel what I'm feeling. And if so why is there always that nagging emptiness in the background.
Because in reality I am happy.
Because in reality I am numb.
Because in reality I don't feel anything at all.
Which allows me to feel this surreal bliss - like being high all the fucking time. And it's great and amazing and awesome and inspiring.

The truth is I think I might have given up a long time ago. And now there is only the basic need. And if relationships are all just a waste of time anyway - why waste time. I'm not looking for a soulmate. I'm not looking for marriage. I'm not looking for a significant other. I'm not looking for a lover. I'm not looking for a date.
I just want a fuck...

I could lie to you and say I believed in better things... but there is no god but myself

Suicide

Every night
You wrote another line
With a bloody, broken, bottle
And every day
You wish it away
Why don't you pull the pin
On that grenade
You cuddle

I wanted to believe
Bodies swinging from trees
Struggling to stand
With your head in your hands
A stoic last stand
Of a dying man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

Every night
The questions poured out
Of your wounded eyes
Damn dark things
Every day
You used to pray
Listen to the black raven sing
You wanted to believe
As you were falling to your knees
Struggling to stand
With your life in your hand
The sad last stand
Of a broken man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand
I did not understand

And the questions poured out
And the questions pour out
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
The sound of you falling
I did not understand
As the trembling heart of a dying man
Did not understand
The sound of a trembling heart

I wonder why there is such stigma with suicide. Or with death in general. I often think about killing myself. And it's not that I am unhappy - because I am in fact Happy. I really like my life and who I am - and don't get me wrong it seems to be going on a bender hard and fast. However, above all things, I know who I am. And I don't worry. Something that seems to be swiftly maddening to those whom I choose to surround myself with. Especially my kittens.

I don't know. Sometimes it just seems that Death is the last Great Adventure I have waiting for me.

I am in Need of an adventure.

So desperately so that when I think of it I cannot breathe and my body is frozen in some silent prison, shaking with the need to explode violently into it.

Perhaps it's not my suicide that's bizarre. But the fact that when I picture it, I'm never caught. If I'm found at all. Sometimes I think I'll just wink out like a star, silent and lost among the thousands that capture your eyes. Overlooked or maybe misplaced and forgotten. And while I think I should feel sad at being forgotten, I rarely am. At worst I'm empty and at best I'm amused. But never sad. Never down.

Maybe it's because I believe that I will be here long after this body and earth has gone from existence. That I am me because I am the soul, the god I have spent so long looking for. I am the burning need that gets me through the bad days, and lifts me to flight on the good.

Empty because I don't need you.

Amused because I loved you and wanted you with me regardless of your concerns.

I don't need you. Any of you. And that should mean something great to you. Something wonderful and fantastic. Because you shouldn't need me either. Ferociously Independent. I want to be like the sea. Like the earth. Completely capable of severing you from myself at any and all costs.

So you will know how precious it is that

I Want You

Hunter When The Moon Is High

Some things are hard to understand…understand if you really understood me I wouldn’t be so alone. Or rather feel this way… arbor mist zinfandel sangria sucks ass – it’s like drinking lime wine [NOT REALLY IT’S LIKE DRINKING FRUITLOOPS]; what a pervasive and degrading idea. I see him sitting there and wonder what he’s thinking…or if he thinks of me while I think of him…though the answer is more than likely not. He has his own life, and his own thoughts - though I wish he would have me on is mind I am not delusional enough to think he does…

A mind’s eye is a Minds Eye and though I may seem impotent in certain facilities I am coherent enough to understand a concept as base as this. Why others do not seems to boggle and vex me in ways not understandable to myself…as though I am above the evolution of the others. Though not all, I do have a few who fallow suit. But not enough and this it’s self seems to vex me even more…like I’m waiting for the remainder of humanity to catch up with myself...

My heart beats a rhythm I wait for someone to hear and understand so that they may love me. It beats wine at the current moment and maybe Lady Sovereign as it right…because some love me and some hate me but they are all obsessed in some way. I’m the Rubik’s Cube everyone wants to finish. Not bragging as I do not understand this myself. Find myself giving them sideways glances as they reach and paw for my attention – labs after the approval of masters proving to be false gods...

The tangy sweetness cascades along the tongue and down the throat reaching in due process the organ it’s fixated upon, and teasing in its sweetness, delicate flavors prance upon budded muscle. How sweet and ingratiating the scent of blood… I wish for it even as none comes. Nothing ever tasted as sweet and delicate as life’s liquid, whispering the sweet sins of the owner upon the tongue and losing itself deep inside uncovering angles to the soul itself that even the carrier knows not. Magick is potent in these silent touches. Burning and hot, an alluring combination, to one so hungry and deprived. I’m pawing at that source, though I know nothing will come from it; pumping in vein from a well that as long since run dry. In agony I howl for one who will let me lap at the blood pool their heart creates for me. Lone a millennium, this queer wolf-cat hybrid – emulsions of vampire spun throughout bright and cascading in an eternal symphony as potent as the pull of the poles to migrating animals… Silently she waits, in utter agonizing anticipation of what may be — what could be if only one were there to be white to her black, angel to her demon, god to her lucifer… She waits hungrily starved for the one who will come, fangs bared in a snarl cruel enough to terrorize the monsters in the darkest minds of the soulless – the one who comes will find an aphrodisiac in them and happily plunge into the maw of razored wolvesteeth.

Running silently over snow crusted hills she hunted, searching for that elusive one who consistently evaded her. She would prevail – even her prey knew this, and its heart beat thirty to the dozen, a sharp gallop in comparison to her own. She knew the time was nearing and her fangs elongated in her mouth cutting her pouty human lips until she kneeled to her fours and sifted to the form the moon compelled her into…

Customers Are People Who's Mother's Medical Plans Should Have Included Abortion

Enraged and pessimistic, bizarrely I seem to excel at customer service jobs. While nine out of ten times I seem to want to watch the customer meet an unholy and bloody gore-filled death, I somehow manage to be polite.

I find this disturbing.

While I am so inclined to kill you with my made-from-scratch-baked-goods they manage to THANK me. I want to eat their faces. Perhaps if they weren’t so fucking mongoloid there wouldn’t be a problem.

CUSTOMERS: When I look at you like your fucking stupid, there is a valid reason!

-Like when you owe me $30 and you hand me a $20 bill. Right. Let me just cover that $10 deficit because I have money justa falling outta my ass!

-I especially love how you think that just because I’m working at a liquor store I am scum. The dirt for you to tread upon. As though I have no plans in my life but to remain here and serve you. Newsflash fuckwad: you are not the center of my universe.

-I also enjoy those fucks who act as though it’s my job to serve them only. So when I’m cleaning the windows they don’t let me know they’re ready - they just huff their disdain loud as a freight train. Fuck your Nazi couch. I have other things that must get done – and no, I did not have eyes installed in the back of my head to serve you.

-These are generally the same fucks that will push their money towards me, as though I’m a prostitute they’re finished with. God forbid they might actually touch me if they handed me the cash. *gasp* they might get my human germs on them. Truly unforgivable.

-These little treasure troves of bullshit are also the ones who will look at the EFT machine to their right. Observe that it is the proper place to slide their debit/credit card and push the card across the counter to me. Apparently I have SLAVE carved upon my forehead.

-Don’t get me wrong, I do not mind if you hand me your card because you overlooked it. You are just fine. It’s the ones who expect me to: slide their card, select the payment type [apparently I have publicly known about ESP], and approve the amount. Sure I’ll approve the amount, for an extra $50 dollars fuckface.

-I also love the genetically deprived cluster of fuckups who come in to shoplift. From me. Especially the old man who steals BOXES of Glenlivet. Sure, that bulging square beneath your coat is natural….right. When I catch you I’m taking your balls cocklick!!

-And you – you mutant-corn-gobbling-zombie-jack-ass – the person who comes in to make my life a living hell. How could I do my job without you!?! This special ray of sunshine whose parents should have settled on masturbation is the “guy” who will come in and berate my prices, my selection – and buy something anyway – so he can berate me.

-Let us not forget that special man! The one who knows you think he’s sexy. Yes that scrawny-missing-teeth-hasn’t-bathed-in-a-year-thinks-milk-is-heavy stud muffin. Boy. You are scrumdiddelyumptious. Let me tell you.

And you wonder why I cringe and swear like a sailor with Tourette’s whenever that bell rings…