Valentine’s Day Massacre in My Head

February 14, 2012

Valentine’s Day Depression

 

Depression slowly creeps into my life once again. My broken record plays the same tune we’ve all heard before.

 

“I don’t believe in celebrating Valentine’s Day.” I usually say or used to say when I was single or dating or married to a woman that would accept my statement of “it’s just a holiday dreamed up by corporations to sell things like most every other holiday.

 

My sleeping pattern has been going screwy on me. Actually my “napping” time has been going screwy on me lately. I just got myself into the habit of going to bed by 12-1 am at the latest and waking up between 5 am and 7 am. Despite my recent long naps I’ve been keeping my new habit for over 3 weeks now. Until today.

 

Is it a coincidence that it’s St. Valentine’s Day? Do I secretly associate this day with loneliness and depression? Or is all just by chance that my depression falls on society’s national romantic holiday. I woke up later than my new usual time around 9 am. I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t feeling the day. I thought some coffee would wake me up, pull me out of my funk. I stayed awake and prayed, meditated and wrote. I still wasn’t feeling it.

 

I said fuck it to myself and went to my bedroom with a cup of coffee and tried to finish watching a Velvet Underground documentary on YouTube and have some coffee. Something about my bed makes me unproductive and most times sleepy. I still wasn’t feeling the day and fell asleep before noon. My dreams were vivid and seemed to include all of my ex-girlfriends one dream at a time but there was no mention of Valentine’s Day. I woke up around 2 pm and had something to eat and more coffee. I went back to watching the documentary in my bedroom and was soon off to la la land.

I woke up around 6 pm with more dreams of more loves of the past and that’s when it occurred to me that there might me a correlation between my depressive state and Valentine’s Day. I subconsciously connect Valentines Day with love or lack of it whether I want to or not. Loneliness has followed me my whole life as the character Travis Bickle states in the movie Taxi Driver. That line seems to follow me through my life.

 

I’m a loner, believe it or not, and love to be alone as a result of being an only child. I can also be lonely and isolate myself at the same time. I find it difficult to see the difference sometimes. There have been times in my life where years of depression pass and I don’t even know it yet alone show it. The song “Tracks of my Tears” by Smokey Robinson comes to mind sometimes. I used to be the life of the party and then cry when I am alone. I have a great poker face in public. I even fool myself into having a great time then the depression hits me on the way home or at home.

 

I hear there are many suicides on Valentine’s Day. “A recent poll found that one in ten young adults admitted to feeling lonely, insecure, depressed, or unwanted on Valentine’s Day. And that’s just the ones that admitted it.” – Listfirst.com. I guess I’m one but then again the quote says young adults. I wonder if it’s better or worse for older adults. The good news is that I am not suicidal.

 

These are my thoughts and feelings of the day. I hope it didn’t ruin yours and you had and are having a fantastic celebration of Valentine’s Day today.

 

I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.

My favorite and my last Valentine’s Day present. She even wrote lyrics from my favorite Rolling Stones’ songs “Dead Flowers” on he tag attached. “Take me down little Suzy. Take me down, . . “


Wicked Smile

August 16, 2011

The gray wired stem cell recedes as your infected fingers touch it.

Look at the first thing you hear and find the weak spot and torch it with your flame broiled tongue.

Lick it.

Tease me with your green-clouded carcass and my tight gray eyes loosen slightly enough to absorb your fantasy.

My fantasy.

A crowd gathers and gathers watching. Looking. Gazing.

At us. At you.

At me.

Your over qualified charms releases it’s grasp and backs off.

A clear candied sludge covers my smile. Your smile widens and you laugh wickedly. Wicked.

It’s my face. Whispering sweet nonsense. Mumbling my monstrous innocence. Crying for something I think you have.

I want.

Come here before you go. Sit on my jellyfish clammy lap and try not to fall off and run away.

From me.

Go now, dear lethargic lethal lover.

Go.


A Sneak Preview of The Best of The Serial Killer Coloring Book

August 8, 2010

Here’s a small sample of whats in The Best of The Serial Killer Coloring Book.

Order here.

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http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/the-best-of-the-serial-killer-coloring-book/12104405


Delete Me: A Poem & Spoken Word Video

July 31, 2010

I wrote the following loosely based on my last entry. I also made a vido for it you can find on the bottom of the page.

Delete me. Go ahead delete me. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Carry your gun in the waist band of your stretch pants that won’t stretch any more if your tried and you tried. A gun that you use in the wrong places with the wrong people and the wrong intentions. It’s not even loaded. The gun. Not you. Loaded.

Delete me from your world from your cancer from your bloody sounded heart that you think is screaming but it only cries for more love. Love you can’t have.

Stick your pencil between your eyes and twist it as you open and close your eyelids slobbering my name while kissing a tree that will never understand you like me.

Delete me. Delete. Go ahead. It’s ok. Delete me.

Push the panic button and no one comes running anymore because they’re tired of your boy cry wolf mentality. Too many false alarms for anyone to understand. I understand. It’s ok. You can let go now.

Delete me from your heart and fill it with vengeance and hatred. Kill. Destroy.

Run for the hills little one while you still have a chance to get away from me. Or do you? Am I always there?

Distracting yourself with THINGS that keep you busy. THINGS that do nothing for anyone except distract you from me. Me. THINGS.

Delete me as you drive over the speed limit racing to anywhere that you don’t have to feel anything.

What kind of God allows you to feel this way? What are you doing? Why? Who do you think you are? Ok so maybe even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe you can self help yourself and forgive God for leaving you alone. Maybe your cancer isn’t so bad. Maybe the wounds will heal. Maybe your heart will soften over time. Time. Time to reveal yourself to the ancient ones in a language you don’t speak. Time to stop running. Let go. Let go!

Delete me. Delete me. Delete me.

Are you finished yet?

I am still here.


Exterminate – A Poem

June 5, 2010

I wrote this one in late 2008 after a break up with a woman. A woman. It’s always about a woman. Ha.

Exterminate

I need an exterminator to kill the bugs she left in my head, my heart. Some bug powder to kill the pain inside that won’t stop no matter how much I want it to stop. Stop. My head hangs heavy on my lap and I try to hump it to bring some life back into it and it doesn’t respond until it’s time to smoke or eat. My face is even redder than usual like a ripe tomato that I refuse to eat because I hate tomatoes and I hate her. I’m filled with so much anger that my stomach feels nauseous and I want to puke right here on my knees and kick myself in my yellow teeth wishing it was her kicking me or me kicking her for how desperate I feel as her face rolls around in my head over and over like a really bad fight scene from American Gladiators and I’ve never watched American Gladiators yet it stops for a moment and I feel slight nostalgia of what I thought we had but I now realize was never there. I’ve been played for a fool. A Jackass. A lunatic. A ninny. A nit wit. A Joker. “I’m the JOLLY JOKER!” I laugh. Then I cry because this as funny as a bowl of half eaten dead children’s intestines. My heart is broken and I hurt and all you want to do is to not feel your guilt and all I want to do is to hold you in my arms one more time and beg and plead with you to take me back and start the same sadistic pattern all over again because I’d rather deal with the pain later just so I can get more pleasure today. If that ain’t true love then I don’t know what is.

A drawing I did in 2001 or so of the great writer William S. Burroughs.


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