Hell Is A Place On Earth

My brain is saying fight
my heart is swollen and bloated.


I fear this year may be the death of me.


Why must I suffer and bleed out?


That's how I know there is no God.


What kind of king lies by the waste side watching and waiting for the sicks demise?


He sees the worlds pain and suffering,
yet doesn't do a fucking thing to help them.


We praise him for being all mighty and powerful.


He's lazy, remorseful, and darkly cruel.


No it's not the devil who's putting these hurtful thoughts into my brain. For if it was, God could strike all thoughts from my head and get rid of him all together.


Reality is grim.


Living is an agony worse than hell.

Dream, Dream, Dream

I've been told, I'm the strong one.

What if I don't want to be? What if I'm actually the weak one hiding all my frustrations, doubt, and insecurities? 

All those dreams I had. Forgotten and left for dead in the bowels of my brain, for what? So others can see how much better off I am?

I've heard it's never too late to dream.

Do they dream in hell?

C'est la vie

Be a gentleman, mother says, as we wave goodbye on the platform.

The steam of the engine drowns out the last words I'll ever heard from her lips,
as we start to droll along.

Her eyes are misty, but she's much too proud to cry.

Me on the other hand, can't help but turn the other way, to avoid her seeing me weep.

Thank goodness for the hand kerchief in my coat pocket.

Mother knew me well.

Just because she didn't have the guts to cry, doesn't mean I did.  The difference between us is my ability of showing it to her.

I contemplate jumping from the moving cargo and running to her arms, but the guards of the platform start beating the crowds back from the train.

I dash to the caboose, hoping to catch one more glimpse of my old life, but the connecting doors are sealed shut.

Au revoir la vie.