meandering thoughts..
so..what am i thinking about today? what chores do i have to do later? how much more bored can i get? am i having a midlife crisis at the age of 25? am i really buying into the need for a lobotomy? maybe i am, maybe i'm not. here i am, stuck in hicksville, usa surrounded by ignorant morons who can't hit their ass cheeks with both hands..why is someone a friend only when it's convenient for their time frame? how does it feel to be a domesticated freak floating around in a world full of contradiction? i believe i have now become the expert on that devilish concept..how do i balance the peaceful me with the homicidal maniac struggling to bust out? that seems to be the dillemma that i deal with nowadays..i'm a sweet little candy girl in disguise i guess. how i long for the blood and sweat of a dingy lowlife nightclub, where the bathroom floor is full of piss and the stage is smothered with nihilsm..i'm an addict aching for my fix and growing ever more insane the longer i have to go without. i have a great family that loves me, even with all my faults, and yet i still feel the need to push them away, to toss them out like a piece of rotten meat. my dreams the past few nights have become stranger and stranger, not making much sense and yet feeling totally in sync..why the fuck do i miss all those shitpigs? what the hell did they offer me besides a good mindfuck every now and then? maybe i liked it too much...abuse me some more, wrap your hand around my tender throat again, like a boa squeezes the life out of its victim. i guess it's the masochist in me, screaming at me to drag the knife across my arm one more time..and they call me nice and responsible..if they only knew some of the thoughts that run through my tortured mind..the key is restraint but i've never been one to back down, especially from myself..maybe i just need to take a flying leap into the mosh pit and get the snot beaten out of me for a while..maybe then, i'll feel more at ease and be able to deal with the world..i guess the tarot never lies, but then i should know that by now..the tarot's always been straight with my ass. i know what i need.i need to find the balance that can only come from within, but how the fuck do i find it? it always likes to hide from me, like a little child snickering behind the bushes.
the crowd roars
it's deep and so unhealthy
the rest you know
i'll feel the hands that felt me
cold hands
your hands
cover my mouth
while i stare into bright lights
APPLAUSE
ten lovers violating
cured
discharged
reach back inside
knuckle white
they ruined and repaired me
the hands removed the bad thing
MIRACLE
MALPRACTICE-faith no more
mike patton sure did get it right..a mind just as twisted as my own would be able to identify...at least when i stripped i got money out of the deal, all the while knowing that preachers and holier-than-thou types would go home, jack off, and then roast themselves over the hot coals of guilt..
smiles, bruises, smiles
bars in the womb
i hide the dirty minutes under my dirty mattress
and they're making me itch
my time is spilt milk
my skin's a layer of soot
i spend my days scrubbing
i'm trying so hard to act like nothing happened
no one left to blame
i'm trying so hard to find that fresh clean smell
cruel words sleep above me
mounting and teasing
i am what i've done
JIZZLOBBER- faith no more
one more welt for the road, my dear?
fuck the world
for all it's worth
every inch of planet earth
-phil anselmo
is this attitude due to my environment? or is it something physiological that only a college textbook on psychosis could explain? does anyone dare try to understand me or really get to know the warts and all version of me? or should i just keep it down to a pg rating for the kiddies? the goody little two shoes within me tells me i need to quit smoking and take up yoga, but for some reason the thought of becoming a human pretzel is not appealing. confinement terrifies me. transcendental meditation is always nice, but why does it usually take me to a dark place? the dream fucking slips...maybe i'm not looking hard enough, or maybe i'm trying too hard..akashic records are really fucked! what makes a 12 year old wanna write dark words and punch her small fists into a wall? 20 years worth of rage and angst will have a tendency to warp you as a person.. there's nothing quite like the shock of seeing your mother have her stomach pumped while she's laying in the back of an ambulance..and then to find your own stomach being violated the same way just a few years later? who would've ever thought that some stupid fucker would ever fall in love with me and wanna devote his life to appeasing my wrath? this person is much braver than me..who do i see when i look in the mirror? sometimes i see a quite normal looking, albeit unconventional, woman who's a stay at home wife and mom, but the eyes always give it away...the hardcore punk who doesn't care anymore is always there, smiling right back at me, taunting me to let her out and pay attention to her..and so i do..maybe that's the balance that i've been looking for..as long as i don't abandon either one, i'll be fine and the hunger will be satisfied, at least for a little while. my throat constantly stings with the memory of my wicked and frightening screams...and no amount of soothing green tea will make it go away..and so, what is my mantra? "evil is good"..er...so sorry...i meant...uh..."release the good"...huh huh ha he ha...my vain attempt at humor...and people wonder why i hardly ever smile..i'd rather keep it real then walk around with a fake barbie doll smile plastered on my face, reminiscent of mr.ed's big horse teeth..i guess that's all for now...maybe the evening will find me in a different mood..
the crowd roars
it's deep and so unhealthy
the rest you know
i'll feel the hands that felt me
cold hands
your hands
cover my mouth
while i stare into bright lights
APPLAUSE
ten lovers violating
cured
discharged
reach back inside
knuckle white
they ruined and repaired me
the hands removed the bad thing
MIRACLE
MALPRACTICE-faith no more
mike patton sure did get it right..a mind just as twisted as my own would be able to identify...at least when i stripped i got money out of the deal, all the while knowing that preachers and holier-than-thou types would go home, jack off, and then roast themselves over the hot coals of guilt..
smiles, bruises, smiles
bars in the womb
i hide the dirty minutes under my dirty mattress
and they're making me itch
my time is spilt milk
my skin's a layer of soot
i spend my days scrubbing
i'm trying so hard to act like nothing happened
no one left to blame
i'm trying so hard to find that fresh clean smell
cruel words sleep above me
mounting and teasing
i am what i've done
JIZZLOBBER- faith no more
one more welt for the road, my dear?
fuck the world
for all it's worth
every inch of planet earth
-phil anselmo
is this attitude due to my environment? or is it something physiological that only a college textbook on psychosis could explain? does anyone dare try to understand me or really get to know the warts and all version of me? or should i just keep it down to a pg rating for the kiddies? the goody little two shoes within me tells me i need to quit smoking and take up yoga, but for some reason the thought of becoming a human pretzel is not appealing. confinement terrifies me. transcendental meditation is always nice, but why does it usually take me to a dark place? the dream fucking slips...maybe i'm not looking hard enough, or maybe i'm trying too hard..akashic records are really fucked! what makes a 12 year old wanna write dark words and punch her small fists into a wall? 20 years worth of rage and angst will have a tendency to warp you as a person.. there's nothing quite like the shock of seeing your mother have her stomach pumped while she's laying in the back of an ambulance..and then to find your own stomach being violated the same way just a few years later? who would've ever thought that some stupid fucker would ever fall in love with me and wanna devote his life to appeasing my wrath? this person is much braver than me..who do i see when i look in the mirror? sometimes i see a quite normal looking, albeit unconventional, woman who's a stay at home wife and mom, but the eyes always give it away...the hardcore punk who doesn't care anymore is always there, smiling right back at me, taunting me to let her out and pay attention to her..and so i do..maybe that's the balance that i've been looking for..as long as i don't abandon either one, i'll be fine and the hunger will be satisfied, at least for a little while. my throat constantly stings with the memory of my wicked and frightening screams...and no amount of soothing green tea will make it go away..and so, what is my mantra? "evil is good"..er...so sorry...i meant...uh..."release the good"...huh huh ha he ha...my vain attempt at humor...and people wonder why i hardly ever smile..i'd rather keep it real then walk around with a fake barbie doll smile plastered on my face, reminiscent of mr.ed's big horse teeth..i guess that's all for now...maybe the evening will find me in a different mood..