Using God as an excuse
to stab your Brother in the back
Too cowardly to show your face.
And too stupid to see all the evil unfold.
Evil you supported. .
Thank you for ruining our country.

I'm gathering my thoughts.
Like leaves.
To be raked up and cast away.
Just as our dreams died before us.
In the end, do we even matter?

Mood disorders, the natural defense system.
Of the abundantly emotional.

When did having feelings become such a bad thing?
In a world fixated on bipolar memes and acute anxiety.

End the stigma.
Such a fancy phrase that when push comes to shove.
Most are the stigma posing as the advocate. .

You may laugh now.
But when you're midlife crisis
catches up with you.

How will you react?

Feeling worthless is a popular trend and I'm not even sure I want to sit at the community table.
Comparing apples to oranges gets really ******* old.
These days I'd rather just be alone.
Safe in my thoughts.
Reality is far more rosey over here.

I dont know who I'm supposed to be anymore.
Like the weather,
I'm indecisive and moody.
Looking for reasons to be gloomy.
You can catch me sulking.
In the sunlight.
Always wanting what I can't have.
I am only human.

I'll be rocking out in obscurity.
After all, eccentric
is just the polite way
to call somebody crazy.
Ambivalence is man's best friend.
Because nothing really matters.

Try as you might.
But I've seen how this will play out for me.
So why would I fight?

To end up sitting in the dark.
Wondering what's more tragic.
A funeral for a dead man.
Or a clandestine ceremony for a living one.

Sometimes grey is no longer an applicable color.
Something's need closure.

I've got the Celiac.
It's making me a maniac.
I'm in a ******* mood.
Don't mess with my food.

You'll probably get assaulted

I'm just throwing pennies in a well.
Wishing to stay relevant.

Like one does when
keeping up with the Jones's.

Here to fight a losing battle
with the day before me.

Because the night marked me present.
And I'm still here.

Despite all opposition.

My faith in you
is dissipating.
Like boiling water
disappearing into steam.
No, this isn't a dream.
The truth isn't always kind.
Kind of like you.

I hope you suffer,
wounds deeper than
emotional scars beneath the dermal layer.

You're truely not worth the air,
you consume.
A zealot. Heretic turned holy.
An abomination hiding behind closet alcoholism.

I'd hate to be your  liver.