to carol; intolerant to fascism

i'm really sorry. i don't know who else to talk to. i don't even know what to say right now, my mind isn't working. i can't think. i woke up just before sunrise this morning, desperately needing a restroom. i'm never allowed to use a restroom. i'm too poor and stupid of a human to partake in such a fascist, selfish monetary society. i woke up, i had to drag the cart up to starbucks, cause no one else is ever there to watch it. i went into the burger king, to use their restroom. i asked the lady for a quarter for the restroom door. she says 'we don't have any'. as i tried to get more persistent, my mind got more foggy, so i can't remember most of what happened, but they stumbled over my 'intellectual supremacist' ptsd triggers like monkeys in a minefield. at one point, she just stood there staring at me with this smirk on her face. i told her i was about to have an accident on her floor. fucking selfish redheaded little bitch. she starts laughing at me.

it's too painful to remember the rest. all i know, is i want to walk in there with a shitload of homeless people, tie those cunts up to the fuckin' wall, and ask them on youtube, do you think it's funny to deprive another human of a restroom? do you think it's funny to make poor people pay you a fascist quarter to use a restroom, when you can't afford to fix your door lock, so every time i'm in there, people can just open the door, but i can never get it open? i'm sorry, was that question too long for your fucking five cent attention span? you have no idea the horrid fucking thoughts that are clustering and clogging and suffocating my mind right now. i cannot think. i cannot shit. i cannot get any part of this ball of cancer out of me before it fucking kills me. i'm never allowed to speak in this stupid fucking world. i'm never allowed to shit unless i do what your boss tells me. i'm sorry, i make a horrible slave, but damned if i have a way out!

i can't tell you how... dark... horrible... fucked up the thoughts in my head are right now. i have to wake up with this shit in my head, because i refuse to be a slave tool for a selfish system and a cloned zombie obedient society... i can't get this shit out of my fucking head! i can't make any worthwhile friends who can actually help! i cannot meet any competent people to build a way out of this! i can't meet anyone with an iq above the concrete. fuck, i can't even fucking type this morning! spent the last thirty seconds trying to delete the fucking v and replace it with a c! every fucking thing i ever try to do has to be this fucking difficult, my hands won't even behave when i need them, they won't do a fucking thing i tell them!

if my mother and i had a family crest, it would have etched on it, 'if you can't get it done right, do it your fuckin' self'.

i can't get a thought out of my head this morning because of the ptsd.
i feel so suffocated, i don't even have anything to smoke, no one to calm me down.
i've texted every fuckin' loser i know, no one will ever respond, cause i'm the only morning person on this pathetic fucking planet full of lazy hypocritical shits.
and i still haven't gotten this turd out of my fucking body.
yesterday, a bunch of dark black crap came out of me.
not just dark black. i wear black. this was galactic black.

and no one thinks there's a problem here yet.
no one thinks that just a little organization and cooperation could end this shit for good.

i want to put a knife through my throat.
i want to tear it through my wrists confidently.
i want to carve this pathetic meat sack off my soul so i can truly walk around naked.

i've never liked being this hateful.
i've never liked having so much irresponsible shit to hate.
i've never once wanted to be a part of this world.
to participate in your lunacy and excuses of childish fears.

i can't think.
i'm wanting to shove my mind into darkness.
to suffocate this delusion out of me.
to end.
to become the silence.
to think no more.

i ache for that.
i burn for that.
i live for that.

i can't get anything out of me. i'm simply not allowed.

so i'm truly asking you. i'm not being facetious, i'm not being hypothetical, i'm fucking asking.

should i just go ahead and kill myself?
is there any way out of this?
should i just slit my wrists and say goodbye?
i can't even cry anymore, it hurts too much.
i refuse to think, because every thought is wrong.
i can't resist the urge to stab people in the throat anymore.
i know i'm not healthy to be on the streets.
i don't want anyone to get hurt, but at the same time, i'd love to slaughter everyone.
i wish i could get a message out, film the destruction of fascism in burger king.
post a video to youtube telling the rich that poor people are fed up.
we're sick of this treatment that they call 'fair' when we know it's not.
we're sick of your fucking lies, your irresponsible blindness to the truth.
i see no way out of this ignorance, this suffocating irresponsibility.
should i just kill myself, and give the fuck up?
why have i put myself through this much hell, if this will never work?

i feel like such an ugly, useless piece of shit.
i once thought i had a purpose.
i once thought i had good ideas that might help people.
not even the poor people wanted to be helped.
i can't feel anything but pain.
physical, emotional, mental...
anguish, disgust, misery, agony...

i feel so sick.

this body is about to die anyway.
i couldn't find a doctor to care.
i can't get myself into the clinic.

i'm lost.
i truly don't know what to do.
my mother's dead.
the one person who would have been most proud of me.
the one person i could ask what to do.

the one person who would tell me...
'no, you shouldn't give up yet'.

fuck this.
fuck this fucking world.
i hate every fucking thing i see.
it hurts in a way i cannot explain.
even if i could, no one would care.
i refuse to be a part of an apathetic world.
i refuse to give a solution to a zombie nation.
i refuse to help these arrogant little shits.
these pukes who could never show me anything but hatred.
exclusion. degradation. humiliation.

i fucking hate too much.
it's gone beyond my limit.
now, i can't get the images of burning redhead burger king employees out of my mind.

snooty, snobby, stuffy, spoiled, selfish little cunts.

you think it's funny to deprive people of a restroom?
you think it's funny to laugh at poor people?
do you think that shit's funny?
cause if you do, you deserve to die.
that's just nature telling you you've been here too long.
you've been fucking things up and living for yourself for too long.

i cannot tell you...
i cannot put into words...
it hurts too much...
i cannot tell you how much my stomach hurts.

i would give anything...
i've already given everything...
i would still give anything...
for just one human...
to crawl out of this concrete hatred...
this festering stagnant stench of the human spirit...
this toxic, vile primordial pond of lies and delusion...
i would give anything...
for one person to drag me out of this...
this quicksand of human intellect...
compassion, sympathy, passion, acceptance, understanding...
i have nothing left...
i need a restroom.
i probly need an enema by now.
i could use a soft place to lay for a while.
i could use a hug. physical affection.
a touch reminding me i'm alive...
not as ugly as i think...

that will never happen.
so i'm asking you...
i'm asking the gods...
i'm asking a selfish, apathetic society...

should i end this fucking horrible joke?
there's no way out of this.
there's no chance at changing a fucking thing.
there's almost no reason left to improve my life.
there's surely no fucking purpose.

cops.
security guards.
harassment.
(when it should have been 'her ass meant...')...
hatred.
apathy.
television.

the super rich, every day, live in luxury, laughing at themselves with golf claps.
while poor people wake up on concrete, being harassed by cops every morning.
and no one else thinks that's about as sick and wrong as you can get on this planet.

so i either want help changing this shit...
or i want to die.

i'm so far beyond fed up with this shit...
i'm thirty years beyond fed up with this shit...
i'm so sick of concrete and credit cards...
i'm thirty miles past suicidal...
my heart has no poetry left...
no one will ever appreciate my words anyway...
i'm never allowed to be heard...

people don't have to listen because their god gave them free will...
you could use it to free willy at this point...
what do you call a guy with no arms and no legs on your lawyer's desk? will.
my mother never needed a will... she had nothing to leave behind but pain.
she was shown a fair time on this planet, wasn't she?
who here would like to justify that my mother's life was fair?
who here would like me to slit their fucking throat this morning?
who here can i make an example out of?

since i can't burn down burger king...
and i can't get this clusterfuck of cancerous death out of my head, heart, or stomach...
since there's no monetary way out of this with friends...
since no one would walk the pathway out of this that i create...

should i just kill myself?
should i just end it?
is there any point to even asking anyone?
should i buy an uzi and take out a few hundred rich people first?
my hope is gone.
it's turned into a festering ball of turd. not metaphorically, literally.
my heart's fucking dead.
the coldest, ugliest, most invisible heart on this planet.

all i ever fucking wanted was a hand on my fucking flesh.
that was too much to ask of this wonderful society of yours.

dear lord, please, get this hatred out of me.
i cannot breathe. i cannot think. i can't see through the tears. even if their metaphorical, too.

i can't breathe. i can't see my way out of this delusion. this lie.

this sad, pathetic fucking life.

complacence. incoherency. submissive, docile, apathetic masses. credit cards.
flesh replaced with plastic.
warmth replaced with price tags.
love replaced with excuses.

i can't tell you the things i want to do to that evil redhead cunt in burger king this morning.
i shouldn't even tell you that much, but i need some way to get it out of this prison head before it happens.

i truly believe that no one really understands me, or what i'm going through.
who i am as a person, who i am as an alien outside of your usual perspective.
how i'm able to be me while you're telling me persistently how to be you.

i have seven billion hateful delusions on this planet
lost in a haze of confusion and a blur of shiny products
bad drugs, horrible beliefs, ridiculous laws, irresponsibility
fascist finger pointing and chasing of meaningless shit
and i cannot get this prison out of my head...
nor can i get my head out of this prison...

there's no way.

too many porches and limousines in this town...
i can smell the plastic...

why i ever came here...
to start a metal band?...
i had a nice spot in seattle picked out where i could be left alone long enough to die.
to exit your lunacy without being held back.
to freely and fearlessly enter darkness.

like that time i walked into the ocean naked.

i felt that end calling, reaching out to me, with actual love and acceptance.

the last time i even thought of the word 'beckoning'.

the last time i felt wanted by a part of this earth.

the last time i could translate that to another set of human ears.

love.
acceptance.

these things do not exist anymore.
if they did, i would have found them by now.
i'm thirty seven years old.
there's no excuse for this.
and there's no reason to continue this lie.
trying to break free from a delusion in your own head.

there isn't a psychologist i could ask who's explored that theory yet.
freud and jung had to be the first because no one did it before them.
and no one's done it again since. and i'm ashamed of that.

i'm no piece of this world. i oppose it.

if i were a puzzle piece, i would have a billion different rainbow coloured sides, ten dimensional lines with a portal shift just to see it. and you're expecting me to fit my wonderful, beautiful alien sides into your stupid little plastic fuckin' puzzle of lunacy, and cancerous hatred...

inspire me.
motivate me.

beg me.

sell me.

sign me.

i still cannot get those images out of my mind.
knives through throats.
heads on counters.
flames.

and a youtube video.
remnants of sanity.

a message from poor people to the rich.
you keep harassing us and depriving us of restrooms...
just because we refuse to participate in your selfish, fascist society...

please... don't let me finish that sentence.
don't make me say what i never wanted to say.
i was betting on the more peaceful outcome this whole time.
you raped that away from me, and blamed me.

i honestly feel like this turd is going to kill this body soon.
how humiliating.

i can't open my eyes anymore.
all i see is pain.

'all i see is...
all i see is...
two white horses in a line...
two white horses in a line...
carry me to my burial ground...

some may say, this might be your last farewell ride'...

it literally feels like my heart won't let me inhale oxygen into my lungs anymore.
my heart itself, is too flooded with tears and pain, anger, hatred...
it's lost the will to let me breathe anymore.
it's time to shut this machine down. in one way or another.

there's no getting out of this.
there's no getting burger king to apologize for...

for what?

would they even know?
would they ever care.

a youtube video wouldn't make a big enough dent.
if i did it, they'd just demonize me and blame me.
i'd just be the next scapegoat on the assembly line.

one more terrorist to fuel their fascism.

there's no shoving an answer through the cnn toob.
there's no injecting a message into the mainstream ice cream american dream media vein.
there's no sticking a syringe into the television power cable.

'tv, what do i need?
tell me, who to believe?
what's the use of autonomy when a button does it all?
tv, what should i see?
tell me, who should i be?
let's do our mom a favour and drop a new god off a wall'

i feel so sick.
i can't tell you the ways i feel sick.
i don't think i could even start at the top and work my way down.
there's too much in my head, my neck will not pop, it's just constantly stiff.
i was this close to getting my van.
we got the letter mailed off for the birth certificate.
it sickens me to have to prove my identity to these fucks.
to verify who i am to people who do not care.
to etch my place in a world i fucking hate.
i cannot take this shit anymore.
my mind is falling apart.

i used to have intellect.
i used to have ideas.
i used to...

i used to be a lot of things.
not a one of them ever would have fit in this fucked puzzle.

i can't fucking think.
i can't even think of how to finish this properly, let alone apologize for it.
i fucking hate myself.

people kept telling me 'it's because you're unhappy with yourself'.

i tried to tell them a billion fucking times.

i love myself. it's you i hate. i have no problem with myself. i'm very happy with myself. but you have to constantly tell me how to dress, which job to get, and which television shows to watch so i can be just like you, when you're incapable of understanding that i refuse to be a clone, that's one of the reasons i've gotten so hateful, but damned if i could tell you that, but no, i'm very happy with myself, i love myself, simply because i'm not a clone of you, so please stop telling me it's because i hate myself, i do not buy into all that superstitious horse shit, i don't believe a fucking thing you tell me, nor will i ever, because i have no reason to, but go ahead and keep telling me how to dress and what job to get, because that's really going to make me happy, and going to make me love myself more. no, i'm asking to be loved by someone other than me, and i'm coming to find out that that's too much to ask of my fellow selfish humans on this planet, because all seven billion of you would rather chase after perfection, instead of just one of you breaking off from the herd to help this wounded calf get back to mommy, but go ahead and keep thinking you're right and i'm wrong, i don't have a clue what i'm talking about, because your words have been shoved down my throat for so many years, i couldn't possibly have formed my own fucking opinion, but no, i'm here to tell you, you're wrong, i love myself, it's you i hate because you can't afford to love me, you can't afford to take a brave stance on this selfish topic, and help one homeless person off the streets as a social experiment to see if it's worth doing, or to learn the purpose behind it, fuck no.

so i'll say it one more fucking time to people who can't afford to listen...

it's myself who i'm happy with.
it's myself who i love.
i'm very happy with myself.

at least i was when you were out of my life.

you are the people i hate.
you are the reason i hate.
your failure to understand this escalates the fact.
it is you i hate. because you show nothing but hate.
you ignore me walking down the street.
your eyes stay locked straight ahead.
your neck is well trained to be stiff.
the shinier the shoes, the stiffer the neck.

and you don't think there's anything wrong with that.
which makes me hate you more.
i could try to explain it to you till i'm black in the heart.

there's no point in making the point to you.
you refuse to eradicate yourselves off this planet.
you refuse to admit you're wrong and stumble into a volcano.

my eyes do nothing but shut these days.
my eyelids have never felt so heavy and hopeless.
i picture that scene from tom and jerry, where tom is trying to prop his eyes open with toothpicks to watch for the stupid mouse.

it would be too offensive to me to use that same metaphor for my heart.

i've locked up too much pain and hatred in my arsenal to use against you.

i don't know what to do with all this negativity you've given me.

you've shoved your hatred into my heart, and then you just blame me for it.
just like my grandmother. perfect little christian she was.

i'm starving.
i honestly... the only thing i can think of...
the only thing still in this mind right now...
i just want to walk out of this starbucks...
push my neck up against the wall by seven eleven...

and push on it so hard that it actually snaps.

to let these heavy eyes finally shut bravely.

that's what i think of your world.
but you'll never know that.
you'll never care.

just another fly turd on the newspaper, lost in the dust of history and hatred.

two hundred years from now, no one's ever going to say...
'gee, i wish that ozzy dude was still around, life would be a little better right now'...

no one will ever say...
'that weird trench coat guy had a good idea... too bad we never listened'...

this world will spiral into idiocracy, because i'm the only one trying to pull it out, to stop that from happening.

the rest of you purchase apathy with plastic credit card hearts of hatred like it's keeping you alive.

meanwhile, i can't shit.
i can't cry.
i can't smoke.
i can't sleep.
i can't think.
i can't pop my neck.
i can't be loved.
i can't be naked.
i can't stop using the word can't.

the more i try to stand, the more you kick me down...

just to get my id, first it was a birth certificate, then it was a name change document, then it was getting a notary to sign it, now it's waiting three weeks for you to get off your ass... obstacle after fucking obstacle, and that's your solution for this world!

if only i could show you how stupid you are.

it's worked so great for the last two hundred years, you must be so proud.

while you stand above the earth...

'the only solution i can see from my hell
is for your expensive heaven to fall'... (a poem i lost, called 'god's gravity').

someone get this shit out of my heart, head, and stomach, before it kills me.

please. i'll fucking pay you every dime i have, i'll give you my two fucking kids and all my writings, please, someone just get this cancer out of me! i can't stop screaming at people in the streets. do you think i ever wanted to look like that? do you think i ever wanted to hit backspace five hundred fucking times just to type the word 'think' properly!!!

i'm just waiting to design some better electronics, make some better music, and get a few better ideas out there for how society could get along and love eachother and unite as one collective under one decision...

that's never going to happen. the hypocrisy of it is precisely this...
how do i get your attention, in order to get your attention...

that's how you've set this world up, and you see nothing wrong with that.

the delusion of it, is this...

to get into that golden door... i need to already be you.

is that why the only thing you can say is 'you gotta dress better, you gotta clean this up'.

if one more person waves their finger at me in a circular motion, telling me 'you gotta clean this up'... they're going to die. and i'm not even apologizing. they're going to fucking die.

i've got a pen in my pocket because i'm a writer.
the pen has always been mightier than the sword, and i'd love to prove it with a historic reminder.
and i know just where your jugular is.

you educated the wrong fucking person.

yes, tell me one more time how i have to be just like you, cause i haven't heard it before.

they'll never understand...
i'm not looking to 'fit in' to their world...
i'm here to destroy the delusion suffocating true life from existing in harmony.

should i repeat that? maybe filter it through google translate?
hold your left eye and tell me if you see hieroglyphs.
your iq has to be this high to ride this ride.

sorry, you can't use my restroom.
i don't care that you're about to have an accident.
i don't care that you're too poor to work here.
i don't care that you're not worth my sympathy.
i don't get paid to care, so i don't have to care.
my boss doesn't tell me to care, so i don't have to care.

take your grande latte caramel macchiato and shove it securely up your selfish fucking ass.

...
well i woke up this mornin' on the wrong side of the concrete
and how i got to thinkin' about all those things you said
about all them hairy people, and how they make you sick
well if calling names kicks back you, then i hope this does the trick

cause i'm sick of your complaining about how many bills
and i'm sick of all your bitchin' 'bout your poodles and your pills
and i just can't see no humour about your way of life
and i think i can do more for you with this here fork and knife

so i called up my head shrinker, and i told him what i'd done
he said you best go on a diet, yeah, i hope you have some fun
and don't go burst a bubble on the rich folks who get rude
cause you won't get in no trouble when you eats that kinda food

now they're smokin' up their junk bonds, and then they go get stiff
and they're dancin' in their yacht club with muff and uncle biff
but there's one good thing that happens when you toss your pearls to swine
their attitudes may taste like shit, but they go real good with wine

believe in all the good things that money just can't buy
and you won't get no bellyache from eatin' humble pie
i believe in rags to riches, your inheritance won't last
so take your grey poupon my friend, and shove it up your ass!

...
there are a few songs i would like to cover, that i think need to be covered these days.

eat the rich, by aerosmith.
hey stoopid, by alice cooper.
simply irresistible, by robert palmer (for my wife).
i've always wanted to do a mystical version of 'ghost song' by the doors.

i hate my fucking life.

no, i should say that to where you can't misunderstand it.

i was okay with my life.
i hated your fucking world.

it says on my twitter...
when i'm stoned, i like my life.
when i'm sober, i hate your world.
is that clear enough yet?
can we end the debate and go home now?

please, help me. i hate prayer, there's nothing to pray to, but if you could send some actual telepathic positive energy my way, how many fucking attempts does it take to type the word positive correctly!!! get these fucking fingers to do one fucking thing i tell them, lord! i'm this close to slitting my own fucking throat! i would much rather at least make a point to burger king fascists first before i scratch 'suicide' off my bucket list and burn the rest of the bucket list, but i just will never have anything the way i want it, will i? it's too much to ask, and if i say i would like one thing to go my way, i sound just as childish and bitchy, and just as brutally to blame for this playpen mess as the rest of you fucks.

that's incentive.
i cringe with hatred.
someone's going to die today.
hopefully, it's just me.

disgust.
repulsive disgust.

god, blind these eyes.
seal off this heart.
rob me of my throat.
take the love i have.
bury it in silence.
blacken everything.
i was never here.

...
they don't understand that...
if they're telling me to be like them...
that means they're unhappy with themselves...
and more than likely, they're just my delusions anyway...
defective mirrors in a haunted house of hateful reflections...
tears are magnified...
fears are justified...

and there's no convincing the mirror that you're genuine.

fuck freud.