I can’t believe that you are still trying to impress me.  After fifteen years of living together, you are still doing it.

I am not at all impressed by the fact that you are trying to impress me.  It’s not funny anymore.  It’s sad.  Stop telling me how wonderful you are, it only makes you look awful.  Don’t tell me how much your boss and your friends admire you.  This does nothing for me.  I don’t get it.  Do you think this will make me love you more?

You are so proud of yourself.  This is all I hear coming out of your mouth.  How much progress you have made, how much money you make and how many compliments you’ve received today.  It makes me feel sick.  It doesn’t make me want to hug you.

Show me your vulnerability instead.  Allow yourself to be weak and flawed in my presence.  This will impress me, because it’s reality.  The truth is what impresses me, don’t you see?

I know you want to be loved, but you’re doing it wrong.  You’ve been doing it all wrong since the beginning.  Vanity is not what will make me want to remain friends with you.  Not even your smiles.  I want to see you cry.  I want to see you recognize and regret every single word you have ever said to manipulate me.  Your words don’t impress me, they disgust me.  Be real, be defective like a normal person.  Show me the insecure side of you and I will take you in my arms to protect you.

As long as you play strong, as long as you act great and speak in vain, I will not want to be near you.  I wish you would understand this.  I wish you could realize this on your own.  Because if I tell you, I know what you will do.  You will pretend to be vulnerable just to impress me again.  It won’t be real and it won’t work.  It has to come from you.

When will you stop trying to impress me?  I can’t take it anymore.  When I see you coming, I want to run and hide.  I know what you will say.  You are so predictable.  I know how marvelous you are already.  I know, I married you!  But each time you tell me how perfect you are, it’s like you are telling me how much of a loser you think I am, because I am the opposite of you.

I know, I should love a person as flawless as you.  I should, really.  But there must be something wrong with me because I hate you.

Daily Torment


Kids yelling and crying
Cats meowing and puking
Wife spending and worrying
Every day the same thing

Television regurgitating
Crap-filled news and cartoons
Trying to sell me something
Disgusting mind-numbing tunes

Oh Lord deliver me
Please come and take me
I need something better
I’m more than a buyer

“You should be thankful
I gave you a wife
I gave you a house
I gave you children
I gave you three pets
I give you information
I give you entertainment
You are so ungrateful”

And who are you
Who tells me this
Who I should thank
For so much bliss?

“I am your God
Who holds a rod
Who you should fear
Every day of the year”

You’re not my god
You are a fraud
My god’s a spirit
He’s not materialistic

I don’t possess a wife
I don’t possess children
You call this a life
I’m not a reptilian

I need to be raptured
I crave intimacy
I feel I was captured
Reduced to impotency

If this is your blessing
Please take it back
It’s much too depressing
Give me a heart attack

My Temple


Okay, I’ve had enough of this.
I’m rebuilding my temple right now!

You tried to ruin me but it didn’t work.  You thought you had defeated me but you didn’t.

Among the ruins there was still something shining, a gem.  My tabernacle didn’t die.  My holy of holies went into a coma, temporarily, but has awakened.  Beware because it gained strength.  You think you have subjugated me but you haven’t.  I played dead so you would stop kicking and leave me alone.  I was still breathing undetectably.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now.  I’m making it stronger this time.  I will not let thieves like you enter, ever!  My temple is sacred.  It’s my permanent dwelling place, my home and my fortress.  I live in it, I rule within it, I control every aspect of it.  And I have an ally.

My temple is my castle but also the abode of the god who uplifted me.  My rescuer and my power, the one who reminded me who I really was.  The only one who told me how much I was worth in his eyes and in the eyes of those who love me, the sons of eternity and Eternity himself.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now.  I picked up the scattered stones and placed each one in its proper place.  You will see it and probably think that it’s the same old temple, but it’s not.  You see the exterior but not the interior.  You can throw words at it and anything else you want, but you will not have access to the one living inside of it.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now and it will be indestructible.  It is a living temple, a breathing temple, a self-healing temple.  This temple is nothing less than the house of god and guess who that god is.  The temple will transmute as the person within it transforms.  You won’t see the transformation of course, because you are blind to the resurrected.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now and I will protect it.  I have hired a watchman, a doorkeeper, a guardian.  I gave him clear instructions:  never to let you in.  I know you will try.  You will act nice and innocent.  You will call me honey, flatter me and tell me that you love me.  Perhaps even kiss me.  I know you, daughter of Judas.  I can see through you now.  I have new eyes, bionic eyes, bullshit-sensitive eyes, and I WILL use them.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now and don’t even try to sneak in.  Don’t say you are sorry, don’t waste your breath.  My relationship with you is beyond repentance.  It is nonredeemable.  One day you might wake up and assume your divine nature but you won’t enter my temple.  You’ll have to build your own.  But it won’t happen.  Not in this realm because it is thicker and even more fucked up than you ever were.

I’m rebuilding my temple right now and I will not allow anyone inside except those who love the god within it.

Dead Romance

Skull Lovers

Why am I still here?

I’m here to piss you off, to remind you that you’re not who you think you are.

All this niceness you dress yourself with, all these friends you surround yourself with, all this makeup and bright white teeth, none of it is you.

You’re a mask, a walking Christmas tree with ornaments and colored lights flashing.  Yeah, you’re a fucking pine tree, all green and greedy, covered with needles.  Without the ornaments you’re just a pile of pricks.

I’m here to remind you who you really are.  I’m your true reflection, the one you don’t want to look into.  I’m the magic mirror here to tell you how ugly your beautiful exterior is.

I’m sorry I exist.  Sorry I was put into your life.  Sorry I never say how wonderful you are and how much I admire you.  Your fake friends can do that.  I don’t do this shit.  Sorry.

You can hate me.  I allow you to abhor me.  Because I don’t flatter you like the others do.  I’m a thorn in your life, ain’t I?  You wish I would leave but I won’t.  You dragged me into your life, remember.  You lured me in like a fish.  Now you’re stuck with me.

I know why I’m here.  I’m here to piss you off because you pissed me off first.  I’m your karma.  I’m the effect of your cause, the harvest that you sowed.  The rotten fruit of your labor.



Man Crying

Man Crying

Fuck, I’m crying.  What’s wrong with me.  I feel like such a baby.  Like as if everything I’ve done so far means nothing.  Like I’m 5 years old again.  Lost.

I tried so hard to integrate.  All my life.  Was it in vain?  What was I supposed to do?  The pressure was strong.  It wouldn’t go away.  I was so alone.  People are so stupid.

Now I’m old and depressed.  I feel it’s too late.  I don’t know how to be a father.  I don’t know how to be an adult.  I don’t even know how to be human.  I’m just a child myself.  I’m a kid with children and a wife.  I don’t know what to do about the wife…

This is the only life I have, man.  How can I teach my kids to integrate, I don’t even know how to do it myself.

I’m always here, at the same place.  Years later, still here, still feeling the same.  I’m so sick of it.  So tired.  I don’t know what to do.

How long do I have to keep running this show.  Is anyone watching?  Is anyone entertained or interested?  Are the actors happy?  Am I derailing here?  Am I off the track?  What track?  Is there a track?

Time is ticking.  What have I learned?  Should I consult the I Ching?  …  I know, I have You.  But You only tell me things I already know.  All You do is rearrange my thoughts.  Same old words…


     “You’re being purified.”

Oh great.  Then I’m fucking happy.  Thank you.

*Crying my eyes out*

(Excerpt from my personal journal, October 2012)