Rant

If this gets too much for you, remember that this is real.

Imagine it’s real the way wrestling is real.

Real in the sense of actors and actresses.

Real people playing fake people watched by people resting somewhere in between.

And because your in a sense of shock from finding me gone, just remember that I’m only gone the way a missing dollar is gone. Fallen from the account, barely noticeable. As apposed to a missing account.

Only one dollar left.

And yes, I left still bleeding from the last time you hit me. Still wiping my puffy eyes with an ice pack to bring down the swelling. And yes, it’s all your fault.

All I asked for was someone to listen.

Listen the way your dog listens, not the way your shrink does. I don’t want advice, I’m sick of listening to all the fake people shell out their pity as a way of ignoring their own problems. Sick of all the liars behind their pearly white smiles and tap water. These people who rarely suffer, they like to tell me how I’m supposed to handle it.

Shut up, your words are tainted with rusty, overused lines.

I’m sick of the bi-polar depressant schizophrenia of the average American family. Sick of the drugs and cigarettes, needles poking relief in my arm, my mouth nothing but a filter of what the world wants me to regurgitate.

Shut up and listen.

There needs to come a time where the strings are cut and you are left to crash to the floor and break like a naked ventriloquist dummy. Newton’s laws, you know... the man and the apple. Who says it’s strictly physical?

You can feel it cant you? Like a fishing hook caught in your heart, pulling you apart one piece at a time. But if only you’d let go the hook would rip the tissue and be out.

Holding on, that’s how these fake people develop. Sixteen years old and still living the Barbie-style fantasy. Twenty one and getting their first job.

Thirty-five and hopeless.

Thirty-six and dead.

Dead in the sense of a shit-smell apartment. Empty bottles and brain matter and bath water and red soap suds. Dead in the sense of endless pornography shoots. One fuck followed by another, for eternity. Dead in the sense of nothingness. Numb.

These people come from your average happy family. Happy in the way the Brady Bunch are happy, plastic smiles plastered onto the reruns for decades.

They grow from parent’s content in their pills and lies, convincing them that the world isn’t really as bad as it seems.

War

Famine

Martha Stewart

They are raised to accept and be happy, sheep for the slaughter of the American machine.

Grinders in a cubicle.

Florescent bulbs for miles.

And this is what passes for normal.

They are brought up with the church. They follow a God that teaches them to turn the other cheek. That’s all and well until they wind up in jail the next Friday for beating their wife and children. A religion found on purity and loyalty turned nothing but hypocrisy.

They grow old and move out irresponsible, simple-minded children in an adult body. They struggle through life and have children before they are old enough to drink. Prozac and Xanax and Heroin and Cocaine. This is what passes as real.

Feeling absolutely nothing is the new feeling everything. Being numb and dead to the world is the new way to live.

They raise their children to believe in this God, you can be anything.

Astronaut, Policeman, Rocket Scientist.

Anything in the sense of Halloween costumes. An act. Not in the sense of a true anything.

Nobody aspires to clean shit off the floor of mall bathrooms. Name one person who sat at night wondering about the future they might have killing cockroaches in trailer parks across America.

They ignore the pain and hurt around them. Trading their virginity for popularity at thirteen. Shooting whatever they can get their hands on their junior year of high school.

How do we stop this cycle of phantoms?

These Barbie dolls… and whatever they call the guy she’s with.

America needs people with experience dealing with problems and not stepping over them. We need people who grew up with the hard times, not someone who is going to shut down when they have a bad day.

However, this will not happen as long as the answer is seen in the form of the problem children. Unlawful and immoral, we are the ones bringing down the country with out thinking and our perspective. The country founded by rebels beating them down in the streets. Poisoning our minds with your drugs to hold us back. Your laws and regulations and your “God-given rights”.

Fuck your God-given rights.

Fuck your tainted broken smile.

We don’t need you, we are self-sustaining wolves in this society and you are the sheep.

Let nature run its course.