OTS (venting) I regret posting this already, but I need to send it away from me and into the world. Comments are welcomed? Leave a link? What is there to say.

The conclusion:
I'll live until my body gives out.
Or until I make it give out.
AKA: whenever the fuck it gives out,
method be damned.

Whenever the fuck will that be?
Lemme think on it:
Morning mourning
wake up
"Where's he?"
garage door
fumes, hose
body in bucket seat
Still gotta go to work
lean over the body grab the keys
"I'll go in the truck"

Bathroom blood:
"Where's he now?"
[Impatient that time]
the door is locked
pound bang
blood under the door
tears in the puddle

Where the fuck am I gonna get a gun?

I never was a boyscout
I can't tie that shit
Mourning morning
looks good
but I am too
impatient all the time
to wait for that shit.
Sometimes when I jerk my head real fast
from one side to another
I imagine a bullet right through the temple,
the insides of my face
spewing onto the floor
(I hope it's concrete)
as if the momentum could do that.

Fuck it all, it's too gruesome.
I can plan and plan and ruin
my plans by getting too much into detail
Damn the plans.

"I should turn this shit into a poem"

It's a poem now.
Why the fuck am I writing
hesitantly in my journal?
Why am I worried about
meaning and poeticismishness
in my damn journal
which no one reads
(except now)?

What's wrong with
my dumb ass
Can't stop shitting
need to fix that
Can't get fucked either.

Now this is about sexual frustration.
Fuck my hand
My friends hands are sexed up:
one by her boyfriend (good for her)
and one by her friend who
takes advantage of
low self-esteem
(at least she got some?)

No. She didn't.
Poor girl thought it was
a hand job
though his pants where on
no fleshy cock contact
and he didn't climax
You should have heard what
she thought fisting was.
Well I better say it now
before I forget:
She thought it was
(remember to ask her how big it felt)

My best friend
got fingered.
I am embarrassed
jealous, appalled
a loser.
Last edited by DorkusMalorkus at Dec 2, 2008,
this hit me. I know the mixed up emotion kind of feeling. Not the specifics of this, but the just "what the **** what the **** I don't know **** it goddamn" kind of train of thought/stream of consciousness was easy to relate to.

I hope your doing well.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
Wow, this was a pretty up and down read. It's very stream of conciousness, but that's as far as I'm going to analyze it, because I don't think it needs to be picked at. You know what this is, and I think the venting alone is what you needed.
Can I just say that I am glad I got to read this. Can't criticize much on a piece this honest.

Quote by DorkusMalorkus

I never was a boyscout
I can't tie that shit

I love this. It made me laugh, even though the situation is not funny. It changed the morbid tone to a different type of dark tone.

Quote by DorkusMalorkus

Why the fuck am I writing
hesitantly in my journal?