An Unfinished Poem I Wrote In The Mental Hospital

I told myself if it ever came to this that I would bleed oceans

But my heart isn't pumping anything worth swimming in

Just a few gallons of leftover tar and some noxious fumes

Everything moves so slow now it's like love's organs

Frozen enough to make you want to sleep for decades

This is the holocaust for the insomniac

Who wonders the alleyways of their own brain

Trying to find a dead stray to use as a blanket or cushion

The people behind the padded walls seem so nice

Though I probably don't deserve what they're giving

My only justifiable possession is a trash can overflowing with doubt

That spills on me whenever I try to set it on fire

Possibly out of fear that I would burn the world to nothing

A personal apocalypse can happen more than once and often does

Which is what Murphy probably thought when he drafted his law

I Attempted Suicide And All I Got Were These Lousy Medications

I have exhausted the limbs of salvation
By doing absolutely nothing with everything
Grandfather clock coughs by the seconds
We shall harmonize, he and I
Burning cancer to choke out desperation
Freight train in my guts derailed from the smoke
I shit out steel and bones after every meal
And then cut myself on the remains
This world would be dead if I wasn't drained
But the western hemisphere is going numb anyway
None of it really matters at all
These pacifiers in an orange bottle I suckle
They only delay the digging of an honorable exit

My Only Anger Problem Is Existence

My mother spat me into the world at breakneck speed
Launched into the sky, my head hit the stars
I came crashing back down in a ball of burning ice
Left a hole bigger then the planet's bleeding cunt
And God watches all of this with crooked, devil eyes
Jacking off to the downtrodden faces of those like me
And then releasing on those who have it even worse
Yet He is worshiped by many in the church of Stockholm Syndrome
Like an imprisoned group of siblings raped by their father
Too terrified of consequence to be free of guilt
I break the shackles every time a memory goes by
Be it lovers and friends who abandoned truth in a ditch
Or a trillion deaths of a society that rips itself apart
But there is no catharsis in the eyes of awareness
Just regret that the universe will remain stagnant
And that I am as worthless as the Higher Power

The Art Of Self Degradation

I am a maggot reflected in diamonds
My flesh slowly eaten by rotted bodies
Products of me, the boy with a closet graveyard
Reeking of ghost skin and suicide sweat
Existence put into question by a winged youth
When I disappear in his sniper sights
Sometimes I wonder If I even have a heart
Maybe the butterflies ate it years ago
And I'm kept alive by the tunnel's dim light
That's burning out for my own sake
So I don't have to see the crawling apocalypse

God's Mistake

Barbed wire drips from the cracked sky
Forming dream catchers entrapping doves
I sleep in a field of yellow grass and feathers
A human compost pile on orbiting garbage
(God's little mistake lives longer than Heaven)
My mouth is a minefield of scars and stitches
It bleeds hate with every breath of death and decay
Occasionally pleading with an exiled king
To die and go straight to purgatory

Lost Touch

I cannot relate to my fellow man anymore
The soil they walk on has more in common with me
(Stagnancy molded by foot prints and afterthoughts)
They're too busy worshiping invisible sociopaths
Too caught up in the heroism of poverty genocide
I prefer the poetry of a crimson-stained wrist
Over the delicacy of a three course meal of pills
It will put this garbage heap deep into the ground
To actually be stepped on instead of just feeling that way

Suicide Notes For Dummies

Hey Fuckers,

You're probably surprised at this gruesome mess before you. Never would have crossed your mind that it would come to this, did it? Now that I got that last bit of sarcasm out of my system, hi! How are you? As you can see, I'm not doing too well. I'm dead! Why did I do it you're asking? Well, that's a funny story (but not really).

You see, I've always felt alone. Even surrounded by close friends. It must be how Justin Bieber feels when he's not around prepubescent twinks. Speaking of him/her, why is it that people like it have so much money when people with actual talent and good qualities clutch pennies like a hypochondriac trying to keep a cold? Seriously, I've spent most of my life being terrified of dying. Which makes this whole situation ironic...maybe. I was never clear on what true irony is.

You're probably getting bored reading this. I was pretty bored writing it. So, here is where I give away my possessions. Or else I would if I had anything worth giving away. Someone might want an Xbox 360 with barely working controllers, an 8 year old PC, and a few pennies. But deciding who would get what would take too much effort and fuck that. So you can all bicker and fight for them. Kind of like what you did when I was alive.

Well I feel as if I've said enough here. That and I can't think of anything else that's remotely interesting to say. It was nice knowing you (okay, I liked earlier when I said that was my last bit of sarcasm). Have a nice life. I hope it eats you alive like it did trying to gnaw through my fat ass.

Fuck you,
Bobby

P.S. Sorry about the messy corpse.
P.P.S. On second thought, no. I'm not.

A Personal Choice

If I were to give myself to the steel
You probably wouldn't notice at all
If you did, it would just be an afterthought
A stuck thorn you use to gain sympathy
Then promptly pull out when satisfied
My depression is like the vine it came from
It grows until it strangles the child watering it
Then hangs his body high where no one can see
Except for the dying angels and vultures

Misotheism

If you're religious, you shouldn't read this. I won't be held responsible for the anger this may cause

I fit into this world like Mercury rain drops
A petty thief in Guantanomo's bowels
Inhaling stress then exhaling awkwardness
Filter tossed to the ground, never decaying
Fear stays when everything else dies
I hold it next to my heart like a bible
When praying to a god I don't even like
Sadistic player of emotions and health
I'll make sure to flip Him off before I go to Hell
Where the flames will weld my wounds shut

Sick Of Chemistry

The veins are drab and empty now

Contents dissolved to the airwaves

The sunshine is my rainy season

But I find solace in this dry wall prison

Consulting with my aluminum friends

We try to find the best way to kill wisdom

Tie a warm noose around its foundation?

Or feed it substance to keep it silent?

Forget it, all of this fills me with a sick lust

I'll just give my body to the wind instead

Based On A True Story

I hitched a ride to the blue coats' haven

To get the knife growing in my gums examined

They injected me with still life and sent me away

I wondered around the area for an hour or two

The world's eyes on me, unwashed and downtrodden

Until I caught a shuttle to an ocean planet

Hung around its orbit until the atmosphere opened

I lit up a smoke to curb the pressure of it all

Some lady came up to me and said "cigarette's kill"

I told her that life kills and inhaled it to the filter

Dove headfirst into the now opened sea

Where I washed the grievances from my body

And walked away with a bottle of chemicals

That I now digest at least once before I sleep

Skumpet

They tell me you were some kind of God
That you could turn sewage into nitrous oxide
Grow forests just by touching the ground
I only knew you for a couple of years
And back then I was blind from a star's glow
Until it collapsed and destroyed this world
Now I see everything and everyone except you
A witness to what this universe devolves into
Since you're not here to shield it from itself
It shatters the heart knowing how quickly deities die
How they can prevent the apocalypse itself
With nothing but words and an embrace in blood

Worst Poem Ever

Skin caked in Hell’s ceramic

And I do not give a damn

Impressions are for majorities

I’m a rusted needle in a landfill

An eclipse no one sees

Motivation is overrated

The crowd chants “Go!”

The mirror yells “Stop!”

Chainsmoking Alcoholic Sociopath

I feel like a cartoon boy

Lungs filled with rat poison

Enough to drown cognizance

Middle finger sprouted proudly

Aimed directly at the Earth’s orbit

I hope the peasants see it well

As they contort in conflagration

That erupts from my tear ducts

Every time the sun dares to shine

I imagine my face on every one

And what we look like inside

Splattered across the walls

Incoherant Ramblings From The Corner

Fresh air has been giving me the bends

Home-sick for the deep end of polluted seas

Where I would put cigarettes out on my tongue

Then lick the prom queen in places she felt uncomfortable

God knows I'm too poor for the courtship

We all end up in the whale's stomach anyway

And you can't pay your way out of that

I personally always used a hatchet or two

A little dull from the blood of part-time friends

But it always did the job and left me with plenty of food

Gnawing on guts in candlelight with another serial killer

They always think this will be the night I fall to them

When I cut myself up worse than they ever could

Chunks of me buried in isolated specks of time

With a small tombstone quoting a sentimental song on each one

Any search hound will run terrified of the smell

It resembles rigor mortis under gallons of rain

Or a horde of zombies frolicking in a garden

Where everything goes to die except for emotion

That fucker will live despite holocaust, meteorites, and bombs

Lingering like the ghost of a cheated and diseased lover

Whoops, I Blew You Up!

Wrap your spinal cord 'round my neck

Yank me out of my own back yard

Too long frantically throwing grenades

But in which direction I don't know

It was never for the body count

It was always for my insecurity

The Only Reason He Hasn't Killed Himself Is He Can't Figure Out A Way To Do It With Pudding

Thought I was alone in this prescribed pill prison but asexual reproduction gave me the cliched horror child chained to my chest and he's blacker than the empty space that fills my veins from time to time.

Pac Man's Many Mood Disorders

Years of trepidation reduced to a couple files

Swallow pills to subdue starving poltergeists

So futile to devour what will only return

But it's better than gnawing into myself

Rainbows And Sunflowers

The healthy dog begs to be put down

Black and white world emphasizes bullets

Gunpowder sprinkled on an infinite rose garden

Divine conflagration spiraling up Eden's tree

It's a blemish that pops up every once in a while

The Art Of Beating A Dead Horse

Strewn about a rusted bucket
The grinder's teeth are a distant memory
Fading from life.
I'm so used to cinder blocks
And atomic bombs strapped to my back
That the ocean floor is now my lover.
My deep blue everything.
She injects disease into my skin
When suicide notes get too boring.
Another night snorting ashes of dead poets
Has diluted my blood to the point of enigma.
They'll never identify me among the waste
This gutted city screams with every gust
They carry the torment to daycare centers
And animal shelters for the sick
The mind is a labyrinth of numbers
I find myself counting cliffs like black sheep
Under the overpass and over the fence
Childhood wonders as if it's normal
I've satisfied the bloodthirsty onlookers
Now staring at my reflection in the sun