My Monsters

I can only justify what I know,
Only cry from what I feel
Leave me alone monsters,
I wish this wasn't real.

I feel as though I bring them on myself,
Inviting them one by one.

Maybe I'm too emotional,
Too susceptible; too full of feel.

I rarely get the courage, the confidence,
The push I need to fight, but when I do,
I'm still weak, crumbling at the knees.

I pick up a sword too big, too massive for me to hold,
I wish this would all get easier, and I could just be bold.

Leave me alone monsters, I don't want anymore pain,
My heart has become too weak for it, and my mind has gone insane.

You follow me everywhere even to my home,
I try to leave you at the doorstep,
But you say you feel alone.

I'm tired of all this anger, this bitter suicide,
All built up inside of me, pushing me from side to side.

Maybe I should ask God to take you all away,
Tell him I'm sorry, and pray and pray and pray.

Perhaps then he will help me to see,
See the light of day.

Some Sketches

I love Nerds

Suicide 1929

He stood above the body of water, the harsh winds pulling him in. Albert Bradley is going to jump. It's 1929, and he lives in upstate New York. Albert breathed heavily as he looked down into a liquid black abyss. He wondered how long it would be till a G-man came and attempted to talk him out of this decision. Although it wouldn't make a difference; his mind had already been made up. In fact, inside, Albert believed, he was already dead.

The Friday before, Albert's wife shot and killed their five year old daughter Eliza Grace. He hasn't been outside in one week. He has been passing his days, hours, and minutes contemplating the different ways of suicide. Time was just as meaningless as his existence. He was hypnotized by grief, his soul was chained and tortured by anger. It was if he was frozen, unable to eat, speak or move with ease. Albert was weighed down by depression.

It was now that Albert stood above the rushing waters, bracing himself for his decision. It was a decision he knew he could never take back.

How I Got Cancer

Spring was beginning to reveal itself. The day was warm, and the snow began to melt, and form runoff. The water flowed furiously into the pond, while the grass waved winter goodbye. The light wind cooled my face, and blew through my hair. I smiled and squinted as the sun gleamed through the branches of the tall pines. I lay back and rested on the back of my chair. What was I afraid of? Why didn't I just face my fears? What was I even doing here? I'm not afraid of death, it must be, that I'm afraid of dying. There are no more lifelines. I'm going to die anyway. Suddenly I am overcome with an inexpressible sadness. My heart pierces with pain, and my eyes weigh heavy on my face. It's going to happen, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. But God can end all this? So why doesn't he?

I lift my light sundress off my body, tearing it from my head. I am completely naked. I never thought life would take me here, to this moment. I walk slowly down to the edge of the still pond. I squint my eyes shut, then jump into the water.

City of Sin

Sudan is a city of sin. Whores walk around with no shame, baby's cry with no food, and boys like me are already carrying around sub machine guns. At a young age we have experienced death, begging for our own lives, and the ultimate sin of murder. I can't imagine what life was like before this happened, before the war. It is my job to guard the base and watch for intruders, my name is Liban and I am a child soldier.

She stares at me, waiting for me to invite her in. She look young, perhaps only sixteen. She is brave; she is so close to our base. She looks up at the hill, where our tents are. Everyone is asleep. I tell her to go. If I let her in, she will die. Tobi tells the guards to let the females in; they are entertainment and fun. She doesn't leave, she wants something inside.

"Go now", I whisper.
"Why?", She asked.
"You must let me in". I pause, if they let her in they will do what they want with her.
"There's nothing up there for you", I say gripping my gun tighter. The girl bites her lip and walks toward me. She is beautiful, her eyes are light brown, her skin is smooth.
"I am not a whore looking for money. I appreciate your concern, but I must get inside. I am looking for someone".
I can't help but laugh, "there are over twenty men with guns in that tent alone!" I say pointing up at the hill "do you really believe you can just find someone, and take them with you? Unharmed?"
She starts to cry; "I have no other choice! I gave him my word, he is my only living brother!" The girl looks down, then stares into my eyes "I will do anything to get him back. I am his only hope". She is serious. , even so I decided not to yield.
"If you go you will both die.", I say with a calm bluntness, "right now I am your only hope".

She promises to come back tomorrow. First she gazes at the tents one more time, she looks afraid, sad and vulnerable. "Goodbye", she snaps, "goodnight".
I hope she never comes back. I hope God saves her.

Don't Rain on My Parade

I've had enough. It's over. No more stress, no more pain, nor more hurt.
I don't deserve it anymore, that's what I say, and this is what I said:
"Don't you rain on my parade no more".

I took it for so long, let it hit me so hard, and finally I fell.
I buckeled under the pressure, melted with heat,
Until there was nothing more of me,
Nothing left to feed.

What happened to my innocence?
What happened to my carefree?
Everyone join me in a protest to fight for equality and happiness,
The revolution starts with me.

I march for love and the right to live,
I have been jailed for so long,
Imprisoned by guilt and power.
Today I broke free, and yelled out: "I have no more to give."

When it gets tough to cope, difficult to deal,
I remember; this is what I want,
This is what is real.

Only God can protect my body,
But I can protect my soul,
I can sheild and shelter it,
Then yell at the storm: "Don't rain on my parade no more!"

Finally I emerge, tears spilling from my eyes; it's done.
It's finished, I can breathe and patch my sores,
I get on my knees, and ask God;
"Please don't let him..Oh please don't let him rain on my parade no more."

The story of a Joker

Everyone I know seems to fuse into one person. My friends, colleagues, acquaintances all have one head, one face, one mind. I wish all this was some hippy allusion or drugged ecstasy, but I am completely sober. I have overdosed on anxiety, and there are no hefty orderlies to pick me up by my armpits, while I thrash and kick. I felt many times that I need to be committed. All it takes is one bad day reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. It's a quote that I strongly believe. Today I lived it. I had a twisted epiphany which brought me to insanity. I don't cry or shed a tear, but instead clench my fists in a rage of ecstasy. It hasn't made me bitter, nor has it made me depressed. Oh depression is long gone; I have already committed suicide and I'm living proof. I can't deny pain, but only transform it, like the stages of a butterfly. I have no attachments, I am free from condescending, superficial and circumstantial friendships. I mean who would want to be friends with a lunatic? I wouldn't.

True Happiness

It's puzzling to wonder whether true happiness can be relied solely on oneself. The source of my joy comes from other peoples reinforcements. I feel as though my self esteem must be given to me on some superficail egotistical platter. Most of the time, my anxieties and sorrow surprise momentarily, then come and go with familiarity. I have never yet looked to my own self for advice, nor trusted my own heart for reassurance. This is the reason I am filled with lonliness and angst, even though I am surrounded by dozens of people. Many have told me I must love myself first, but it is a task I have never understood. My subservient qualities are detrimental to my friend and relationships. Guidance and psychological explanations of my behaviour are only a small grain in a bed full of sand. Hope is something that comes with motivation, a feeling that too must come from the inner workings of oneself. I am not permanent; I borrow contempt and esteem, without these, I am drained.

The Blood Worshiper

After killing her, she went to Starbucks. She ordered a Grande Black Tea Latte "please", her eyes glowed red, her teeth protruded past her scabbed lips. The cashiers heart beat profusely as she tapped in the order. She wasn't sure if the girl was going to kill her or take the tea, sit down and graciously leave after her cup was empty. It was unlikely. The strange customer sucked on her bloodied fingers with a furrowed brow, and an awful slurping noise. The cashier gulped and then spoke softly;
"it will be $2.49 please", she said as she shivered.
The girl smiled, and then slowly lifted her head so that their eyes met;
"yes of course", was the reply.
Then she quickly whipped her head back down to dig into her purse aggressively. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, she pulled out a toonie and a loonie. She held out her bloodied palm, the coins covered in blood as well. The cashier took the money holding the edges of each coin with a nervous precision. She then cringed as she opened her cash and plopped the girls change back into her hands.
"I'll be right back", she said quickly, hoping that escape was still possible.
"No", the girl said in a deep unshaken voice, "your not going anywhere".


It was half past midnight when the girl left Starbucks. She looked up at the moon, and wiped the blood from her mouth. Suddenly a car pulled into the parking lot, a short man driving the vehicle furrowed his brow as he saw the young lady in blood walking over to him.
"Can I help you?" , he said very terrified and a little concerned.
"Yes", she said with an innocent pout " I need a ride".

A Lesson In Love

You feel like you don't deserve it, then when it comes your way, you can't get enough. Love is like candy, you never want that "yummy" feeling to go away. Then when it ends, its over. You feel bewildered, hurt, angry, regretful, and you just want it back. But its over, you have to control yourself. No going back or falling victim to your cravings. Snap out of it! and be own your way. Move forward and don't look back. You can cry, scream, and kick your feet. Just don't do anything drastic, take a deep breath, and realize who you really are. Sometimes something that seems perfect can be flawed. Maybe you got excited too soon, or it ended too fast. Just like candy, its gone before you even know it. Don't be down dear, don't be sad, pick up that lip, and get up quick! Life isn't over, no matter how much it feels like it, life is definitely not over. Sometimes moving on is one of the best things that you will ever do. Don't dwell in the memories, and don't think about what could have been. Instead, look forward at the life ahead, you only have one, so make the best out of what you've got.

Shrink Me

The world goes round. Yet, at times, I feel like it has stopped. When I'm all alone I listen to the sound of quiet. The sound you only hear at one in the morning. I hear the rain putter pattering delicately upon my window, I hear the sound of cars whizzing softly, yet swiftly down the road. I close my eyes. The earth has stopped. Life is paralyzed. Sometimes I think someone else in the world can hear it too.

"Hear what?", the woman looks down at me, her spectacles at the tip of her nose.

"The earth stopping", I say barely looking up at her, then putting my head back down.

"What does this sound like?", She asks leaning toward me; trying to look underneath my half closed eyelids.

"Nothing", I reply "It's just quiet". She wants to laugh, but she tries to spare my feelings, and suppresses the giggle with a queasy smile. The smile is full of pride, and her chest is full of crumbs.

"So how often do you sit and listen to this..nothing?" She asks leaning back, and attempting to regain composure.

"Everyday", I say softly, but this time I look into her eyes, and hold my intense gaze for quite some time. She begins to look nervous; shifting her eyes away, and ruffling about her files.

"I think this is all we need for today", she says as she clears her throat, and looks at her watch.

I find it hard to believe she actually gained something today. I find it even harder to believe that my mom is paying her 50 dollars an hour to do this. Sometimes I view my day as an episode on a sitcom, or a chapter in a book. What will happen on the next episode? I have no idea.

Coins

Most people will never truly understand the feeling of desperation. I feel it every day. I watch my life go past me, flickering past my eyes like an old black and white movie. I stand on a street corner. I stand so I can see the people's faces, and look into their eyes. Out here its called gazing. Some of us don't like it, they think its too aggressive, but I think its perfect to manifest the fear in people's subconscious. For the first two days I was out here, I sat and talked to shoes. Nobody gave a shit. By gazing people have to care. It's like they are forced to care, forced to yell at me or regurgitate some change. It works. Everyone out here has their own technique that they like, Madison shows a bit of skin, Al likes to make small talk, and I like to gaze. Out here they call me blue, I have bright blue eyes which I use to my advantage. I get into their brain, their souls, then their wallets.