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.

The Great Freakshow In The Sky

To claim The Lord made humans in His own image one must think God an amputee clown performing coitus for His next botox injection

Aphrodite Gave Me Herpes

Always smart enough to close the curtains but dumb enough to leave my key under the doormat there's a female on the loose craving to gnaw away what little I have left of myself.

Blair, Natalie, Tooti, Jo (And Don't Forget Mrs. Garret!)

How naive to think the world is against me oh no it's out to get us all I just have the firepower to blow it away like a rat cuddling a landmine

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.

Totally Radical!

Warning 1: This may offend some people

Warning 2: Nobody cares about those people

Lady Justice has always been a hooker twisting for the richest john and today she sits on the examining table while I gladly vacuum each judge from her tattered cooter and stomp on their heads with golf cleats in front of an audience of emotionless lawyers sat snugly in their golden cribs.

Too Many Prisoners, Not Enough Casualties

When skies burn with the heat of a thousand negative equations am I eternally sentenced to be the ocean washing nuclear warheads to shore?

"Kill Yourself" by Dr. Robert Wilson

Scouring the cherubs for a rusted razor humanity dives in melodrama deeper than a teenage soap opera while forcing its dick in our mouth and claiming to be the victim.

With Legs Wide Open They Claim They're Not Whores

Transmitting open invitations to molestation when we were bored enough with your adolescent qualms and roofie hobbies what we really wanted to see was the next scripted breakdown or your child finally finding Baby's First Electrical Socket.

Damn Right I'm A Misogynist!

Dear God escort the seed out of this endless moist desert before it suffocates! Beware the swirling blond blades for they have been sharpened on sheep's clothing one too many times. She demands payment for the hostage's release in the form of Stockholm slavery. Put the poor bastard down to ensure their future as a second-rate abortion instead of an F-list lobotomy. We've all stood in shock at the nations in her wake resembling a thousand forgotten funerals. Yes, we've established the fortitude to brush her away like a sick horsefly...until the teeth gnaw in and psychosis lives again

Don't Look At Me I'm Weird

Like drunken perverts, elected shadows toss money at strippers' feet as they dance on the Washington Monument. Capitol crawling on legs of disease refuses to be put down and the burden lands on the mandatory worshipers. They plucked technology from the tree of Eden and washed our brains in the juice. Their sugar melodies soften us up for suburban warfare fought in cyber battlefields and all they've given us are rusty insults for defense. Something is going on behind Miss Liberty's curtains but we only see outlines of softcore information. When they took the "I" out of "Individual" our future was sealed in brown bags and set on fire on our doorsteps. Smell the back of your boot and welcome yourself home, John Doe. The future is in your grasp as long you never reach for it.

End Of Level Boss

Photographs of you ripping out your internal organs while I stare vacantly at nothing are etched in diamonds around my solitary lair because nothing says true love like self-mutilation.

Ashley

Five years gone since her disappearence and I'm brought back to the last place I or anyone else saw her on this bench below the skinned trees. She limped on the shattered sidewalk below the spitting sky and sat down next to me. "I saw the universe get eaten again last night," she told me, "and I think the black hole is growing in my veins." I caressed her and gave a slight "shh," looking over the bleeding bones and dirt mascara before me. "We can be the end of the world and live forever. My love for you is beyond immortality," I told her before giving a tender kiss. At that exact moment her body slowly became transparent as the sun slowly peeped out behind it's veil. her outline exploding into a bright flash as the world was stripped of all meaning and color. Now people crawl to unknown purproses as the universe decays in black and white majesty. I can't help but feel guilty of these war crimes but sometimes all we can do is sit back and watch beauty die.

The Best Way To Someone's Heart (Is Through Their Ribcage)

Deceiving prodigy sends her coded severance through a neverending network as meanwhile I watch reality shatter for a split second before it reforms into a bullet heading straight for her chest.

A Simple Tale

The Brave Knight slowly took his sword out of The Black Dragon's jugular. Adrenaline washed away the warrior's hatred as his slain foe's blood dripped off the highest mountain in the land. He crawled slowly towards the edge, his wounds crying and his armor melded to his flesh, to see his beloved homeland. Yet all he saw were smoldering ruins of what once was. The Brave Knight lost his name with a single shed tear and dropped his blade to the ground before jumping from the ledge and disappearing in the smoke. What he never knew is that The Black Dragon lives forever in the heart of men like he, just waiting for the perfect time to send another kingdom to Hades.

Another Dissertation On Love

With black hair swaying in the wind she took an eternal gander at the cloudless sky with deep black eyes, of which I prayed to bathe in before I died. She was about 5'4'' and was more beautiful than the roses she stood upon even if her wrists were splattered with scars and her eyes were blue like her soul. I knelt on my knees and watched her for years hoping that she would notice me or flash a smile but saw nothing but her making love to countless guys who would come by, all the while continuing to stare at the sky. And before I knew it everything else disappeared; the grass, the roses, the sky (which I noticed was turning gray before it disappeared) Nothing was left except her and the distant singing of past voices telling me that the world is ending and they need everyone to chip in to save it. I told them “Wait, for love does not.” Eventually the voices stopped and I was left alone with my beautiful girl who finally spoke. She said “Love, for you should never wait,” and gave me a kiss before dissolving into a puddle of water and ash. I was so elated to finally swim in this holy water that I drowned while the world burned.

Just Another Day

I remember the swarm of black clouds, pulsing as if they had veins, stagnant up above. The endless gray washed an austere tone over the cracked sidewalk and street (the latter damaged so badly it resembled a nation of concrete islands.) I was walking to an unknown destination as the ghosts of my friends, alive and dead, circled around me. They were moaning about the monotony of a heart's pulse and the downsides to breathing. As I attempted to block them out, I saw an old man, of about 70 or 75, bleeding and crying on the sidewalk as his white robe turned a crimson hue..I rushed over and grabbed his hand and as I was helping him up, he stabbed me in the gut with a small hidden blade. Kneeling down and grabbing my wound (the knife was still in it) the old man calmly told me “Look up.” The veins in the clouds burst open, spraying confetti onto the bleakness of humanity. I looked around and my friends were gone. They were finally at peace. So was I. And I will never forget what the old man told me before I hit the ground: “Kindness kills”

Laundromat

The flaw of worry, the humanity it shows. I find myself methodically evolving into a lesser being like love making in reverse. Sympathy has given way to oceans of indifference around our stranded bodies. I cannot help this lady drifting on a stretcher. The white coats sliced her insides and trapped her behind bars of morphine. She can untangle the binds around her but is too entranced in hypochondria dreams to care. Another insolvent night and I catch myself staring at the Titanic. She cries to me for salvation but I can't prevent her from hitting the sea floor by changing the weather. Forever will I cherish what she's done, eternal will I hold her closer than any parent. I'm just too drenched to worry or sympathize.

Suit Of Question Marks

All creativity has drained from my body. It ripped through my pores as if the tissue was caving in on itself. The poor puddle of grief has drenched the mattress where my blood is supposed to soak. Where did the originality go? Was it ever here? I've carved my offspring to the bone and still starve. Skeletons weep, washing my identity away in a murky river. Poetry is dead. I locked her in the shed and fed her nothing but scraps from dumpster dinners. Rigor mortis dances ballet in the garden where my ideas bloom. They're wilted roses mourning atop foam coffins

Grunge

Is that biocide embedded in your lips? Are your arms constructed and put together with C4? I've been to this place a thousand times before. Deja Vu would be putting it lightly. No money to bribe my way out of this, no gifts to distract the berserkers, Nothing but dedication and it's not enough. You better run before you detonate. I am not good enough for you and we both know this. Don't feel guilty because I'll blame myself in the end regardless. The chain around the moon pulls it so close that I can taste the rock and hear the crows that call it home. They all say “don't follow.” I plan on nothing until this moment happens again. It never gets easier. Just a needle pumping more embalming fluid with each subsequent injection.