Cruel Monster

I am currently in a deep dark soul sucking bout of depression. The kind that makes you question everything about yourself, your life, and the people in it. Everytime this happens it feels like it will never end and everything I feel is not only true but more true than anything I feel when I'm not depressed. This is more than just crappyfeelings this comes with its own physical symptoms. I have a tightness in my chest and a shortness of breath, my head is foggy, and my nerves are constantly on edge. I want this feeling to go away more than anything. I hate it, it robs me of being myself. I feel like a morose zombie walking around nodding at others not wanting to partake in any social activity. Hating people for no reason a cloud of negativity gathers around me. I can honestly say that the majority of my 28 years on earth have been spent this way. Happiness is to me what depression is to others-fleeting, temporary and not indicative of who they are. I must beat this monster for it has already taken more from me than it ever should've.

Death Throes

We are all dying lets fuck

#133A

Your lipstick still stains red the cheek
Near where your lips were mine to meet
But deep beneath your blushing shade
Lie my own layers of rougeish shame
One that delicate lips could 'err detect
For it was built by pride and negligence
But your Judas kiss betrayed this feeling
Leaving me lost and searching for meaning
Thinking that I may yet be able to let it go
If only for a second this moment to grow
Then with parted lips you again brush against mine
And I find no reason to conceptualize
When I can feel the living rhythm within our rhyme

This Time Is Ours

Entry 2: Written in 1st person

As some peoples lives painfully linger on, mine will come to an abrupt halt in less than three hours. I am anxious to see what lies beyond these finite walls and this glass box we refer to as life. Am I scared? Of course, but who wouldn't be? Sometimes I wonder how I will leave this world. Will I leave engulfed in flames? Will I trip and hit my head? Will I drift off in my sleep? Maybe I will die a hero, maybe I will die a villain, only time can answer. These last few hours I spend alone, thanking God for every moment He has let me experience life; every breathe I take is a gift from above.
I hope people remember my name and I live on past death. I believe that everyone aspires to be remembered. To be remembered after death is to live forever.

Within it all

I'm on the outside just like everyone else. Maybe I'm not
so naive, I believe that all articles that radiate with
resplendence are not truly golden. Then again
most do, they are just too ignorant and caught up in the
beauty to realize how sordid things are.

I wish to open eyes and let look around to see. To
honestly see what lies slam bang in front of them.
Living the way we live in this place we proudly call
our home. How can one be so proud when things that
happen here occur so often. So there may be starving
children in other countries, we all have our poverty.
Yet they don't seem to walk around as if their
waste doesn't offend.

This place I call home doesn't make me as proud as I
once thought it did. I always want to complain that we
are all so pessimistic, but am I not being pessimistic
complaining about how no one sees what I see
Because they are mostly trying to be optimistic about
where they hang their hat. Yet in my defense, no one
is being optimistic at all. They merely don't know that
Beauty is only skin deep. And quite frankly they don't
concern themselves with knowing.

I just wish to open eyes and let look around to see. Maybe
just see through the eyes of me for one day, and
see how far their "optimistic" view of home is when they
leave my eyes and head back to their own,

grey like lonely

I'm so alone in my thoughts... I'm consumed by rapidly compounding worries, wishes, regrets, and hopes that are overshadowed by the enormous boulder of negativity that I carry always.
The lonliness isn't what bothers me, it's the realization that I've created this tunnel of pessimism and made it impervious to outside influences. Go ahead, try to convince me that my life isn't a complete waste; a waste of potential greatness. I know that I could change it all, but my mind is telling me that the amount of effort required wouldn't be worth the kickback, and I've got to give it to my mind on this one... because the last time I met a genuinely happy person... well shit, that's never happened.
I could quit the job I hate, where the people I work with win the prize for dumbest mammals ever (alive or dead, because really, who stuck in an underpaid mindless corporate shitty career is even alive?) But i'd likely be walking into another vortex of equally idiodic losers who have nothing better to do than to make small talk and shuffle papers while pretending their lives serve some purpose. By the way, no, I don't want to see a fucking picture of your kids or grandkids. They're not special. Nor do I care what you had for dinner last night or how your drive into the office was. I want to sit at my desk and wallow in self-hate smeared with self-pitty and watch the clock tick away the moments of my life, because when 430 comes I'll be halfway to tanked in my mind.
The only time my grey tunnel isn't so dismal is when it's got some hydration, a few cold beers and some menial conversation with the people I actually choose to be around. I guess that's the payoff, right? I suffer through a 40 hour work week in order to enjoy a couple hours a week. Yeah that sounds like a fair trade...
Is it so unreasonable to consider being unemployed for the rest of my life? 'Cause I think I could give up my worldly possessions for some more free time and a sliver of my sanity recovered. I've always wanted to see if I could survive as a nomad. Beach to beach just livin' carefree. Is this completely unrealistic? People to it, right? Are they any less content or happy than I am? Because if they're in the same state, they've got the idea. Screw working, no matter how far it gets you, you still won't be happy or satisfied. You'll work your way to death...

This Time Is Ours

What if the concept of tomorrow didn't exist?

Waking up to a sunrise knowing it will be the last you will feel and ending the day cherishing the last sunset you will experience, or at least that's what your mind is deceiving you to believe. You remember the happenings of the day prior because the concept of yesterday still exists, but when you start a new day you can't even comprehend, never mind prepare for, tomorrow. Some may call this a curse, some may say, "If we can't prepare for the future than how can we live in the present?",but I say, "If we can't live for today, we don't deserve a tomorrow.".

To Be Continued...