where we write it


Suicide Game

Here’s the game, gonna only say it once…

I’m suicidal, I’m depressed, I’m fucked up.

People with my history are criminals or ones who killed themselves.

In my mind, no one deserves kindness because I never had such thing.

To not be I just pretend; smile on because I’m playing the game.

A point of no return in my brain where it may shut love or go insane.

You lose if you get there.  I wish you knew where I’ve been.

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Self hate

because of_U_f

Racism, you made me hate my race.

Sexism, you made me hate being a male.

Hate what I didn’t choose and couldn’t change.

You live once, and I’m living with self hate.

Wish I could rip out my skin,

cut my genitals  and cover my face

What makes you prejudge me till I die.

Life is ugly and so am I.


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Anguished Lullaby of Pain

escaping nightmares


These feelings are too ugly to write about.
These times are too awful to keep in memory

How dare I ask you to sleep.

Close yours eyes and wait.
I will sing you a lullaby of pain

Breathless weeping, vexatious faint

Firing neurons twitching brain

Lumping scorching jugular veins

Heart throbbing accelerated rate

Blaring headache itching ache

Contracted sight speech impaired

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Vent To The Stars

Jealous of the shining stars in the galaxy;

A beaten comet with a tail of tears

How come no other star is lonely?

I see them all dancing with peers

No other where to say it but here. Wish the day passes by

Wish I just fall asleep. Unbreakable boring theme

Hands on cheeks; miserable sorry being

Unpleasantly clear; unworthy of belief

Kids having fun as if pleasure was real

Incessant extremes my soul should leave

Restless past, harrowing peace;

Abraded flashbacks, relentless fears

Compulsive erratic epileptic writings!  Anonymous dear!

In a public site for no one to read

Faking a smile trying to heal. 

Trying to dance with insides that bleed

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He Wants The D , Give Him The Death Penalty!

People Budget Fix Rally July 30.2009 Stefanie Faucher 004

 pic source: Stefanie Faucher

This is not about killing the gays or their rights;  it’s about criminal psychopaths who are sentenced to death.

How many times did you hear the victim’s family say “It’s kind of a closure. but not a tear; I saw his face at the sentencing, he was plain, cold; had no expressions.  no guilt; evil it was like staring at the white devil. …etc ”   Well,   off course he had no expressions.   He’s a psychopath. He’s incapable of feeling any remorse or empathy.  He will actually go to his death sentence with a clear conscious thinking you all misjudged him and feeling the purest forms of utmost innocence and irreproachability.

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Power Shuts Down Empathy

  Neuroscientists have found evidence to suggest feelings of power shut down a system in our brain that helps with empathy.

Neuroscientists have found evidence to suggest feelings of power shut down a system in our brain that helps with empathy.

But empathy may be gained when you exclude that person from your life.  However in the same time,  like an addictive status of a drug, that individual will seek power in an environment where he can use subordinates and less powerful people and not be around people who he can’t use.

This is something I knew was true all the time; I went through it personally.   I dont’ feel like sharing my experiences and stories about it, but I was shocked to read its outcome this way especially the last line about that new study.

The site is also linking to the whole study in a pdf

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Weak Existence

Not conscious of life.
Numbed by its disappointments.
A weak existence, one dimensional and timed.

Talking to myself, hearing my echo. Not leaving my bed.

Aware of how I talk to distract myself and experiencing how I don’t think.

Pushing it forward, but it isn’t moving.

Sick of breathing, sick of eating; sick of being.

Am I truly stuck?  I’m not panicking.

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I’m not loving life,  because it didn’t love back.

Sick of traveling roads, they all have no ends and leave me lost.

Sick of saying ‘I’,  but I’m still saying I.

Sick of no one caring,  am I allowed to complain?

Always nervous, I can’t remember the last time laughing.

Reality everyday, when can I smile.

Time is still ticking, memories and breathes passing.

Should I sing or write to make them less awful?

Suddenly, I have no emotions. I don’t know if it’s awesome. Read the rest of this page »

Paralysis of depression


Timeline testifies.

Coping mechanism.

Checking for happiness.

Wasting time whispering

And less time thinking..

Less time thinking…

Less time thinking…


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