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What Happened?

“What ever happened to love poem Friday?”

I happened to love poem Friday, quite frankly…I ran out of love. I didn’t know it at the time, but “it” was beginning (and don’t worry, this is not going to be an entire post of depression and hate-very low numbers on those posts-and fo sho the conclusion will be…”and therefore there is no God.” Thank you.), unbeknownest to me. I wish I did know because I recall getting frustrated because I wanted to say something, something lovely and caring, but nothing was coming out. I felt like a horrible, nontalented writer/poet and a loser as a human. No love, what the hell is up with that. So yesterday I tried to write some love poems.

First of all, I was all blocked up. I had seen her (formerly “Her”, but I took away the capital “H”. That is Nu Kriss, any who), had the customary nervous breakdown right before work, had a shitty day, went to get one beer (I only made enuff tips to get one. sheez), and was ready to get down and do some writing. Writing is one of those things that people say you should do when you are depressed. Personally, I think it just kills time and fo sho, it doe not change the brain chemistry. I was blocked up and I did what you are supposed to do…Write what you know. Here are some parts of some of the gems.

Hello, is love home

Is there love in here, anywhere
Where is the “hearting”?
It used to come so easily,
like many things
Now I can’t find it
Where where where…

———————————————————–

I see you (now I wanna gouge my fuckin’ eyes out)

[Fo swho I can’t copy the whole of this one, but I think you get the picture.]

———————————————————-

OK, so the love poem thingy wasn’t working, I only had enuff money for one frackin’ beer, I had had a nervous breakdown earlier (because I randomly saw her in the park) and I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but I think my foot is broken or at least fractured for, like, two/three weeks now. For a very short time, like one day, I felt like my depression was getting better (thanks Horus the sun God), but this was not a day like that. This was a day where from the moment I woke up to the moment when I, finally, get to sleep my brain is running and running and obsessing of things that I can not control, things that are none of my business. I felt like I was on the bottom of the bottom. I was sinking fast, fuck, if I could of had one more beer that would have been so cool (I can acknowledge that that is not true, but at the moment, I sincerely felt that)…do you know what I’m getting at, atheist.

What is it that peeps do when they are on the bottom of the bottom, when they are suffering so much, like, so frackin’ much. What is it that peeps do when there is incredible pain in their lives and (whether it is true or not, or just in (my) mind) and, seemingly, there is no relief. I have written of this many times. Who is it that you find when, let’s say, you go to prison, or go to the prison of the mind like me right now. Kind gentle and goodlooking reader I’ll give you a hint.

“Cursed be the day
on which I was born!  (Jeremiah 20:14-18)


“Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I
am languishing…


I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with 
tears;
I drench my couch with my
weeping…


…for the Lord has heard the
sound of my weeping.   (parts of Ps. 6:2-4. 6-10)


Hey atheists….do you like apples, well….(more to come…)…

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