Always Wrong

You call me lazy while you sit on the couch

You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out

You call me expendable and wave your pink slip

You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip

You call me ugly while your lover is puking

You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing

You call me a loser while you’re floundering about

You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt

You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring

You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring

You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few

Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”

You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech

But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach

You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong

You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long

Always wrong! Always wrong!

It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!

You Don't Care

VERSE 1

He’s bleeding all over the streets

Every enemy lies at his feet

Waterfalls pour down his cheeks

Sweat-covered clothing starts to reek

Weapon covered in hues of red

Heartbeat slows ‘til he’s damn near dead

Broken fist raised into the air

And you don’t care

 

VERSE 2

He’s lying on the pleather couch

Traumatic stories pour from his mouth

When the war started, shit went south

He was always looking for a way out

Every time the door would open

It’d slam his fingers until they’re swollen

His soul on full display to bare

And you don’t care

 

VERSE 3

The pages have long since yellowed

The critics have raged and bellowed

One star to rule them all

One book as toilet paper in the stall

Back to the drawing board, chalk in hand

Every broken dream has turned to sand

He’s got feelings of his own to share

And you don’t care

 

OUTRO

You’re so hard to please, you love to hate-watch

You love to just kick us all in the crotch

You’re just waiting for the tiniest botch

Get through another page with a bottle of Scotch

You don’t care, oh no, you don’t care

As if your opinion was enough to scare

Me into being an obedient bastard

But haven’t you heard? I serve no masters!

All You Want Is More

VERSE 1

It might be a shocker to those unaware

But not all my dark secrets are fit to air

On TV, radio, or the good old Tubes of You

In between advertisements of whiskey and brew

Did I really do that to an old classmate?

Did I joke about submissives like a sick reprobate?

Did I do it on the bird app that I won’t call X?

Do I got a one-track mind preoccupied with sex?

 

CHORUS 1

I gave you my pain and all you want is more

I gave you my tears and all you want is more

Ripped open old wounds and all you want is more

Deets and dates, all you want is more!

 

VERSE 2

I crucified myself for an audience of many

I did it all for free, didn’t earn a single penny

The riches and bitches are for the anchors at five

Trust me when I say, they won’t call me “unalive”

 

CHORUS 1

I gave you my pain and all you want is more

I gave you my tears and all you want is more

Ripped open old wounds and all you want is more

Deets and dates, all you want is more!

 

BRIDGE

The conversation has long since run its course

Yet it happens again and you’ve got no remorse

Let the words of the greedy die a bloody death

It’s nosy at worst, concern trolling at best

 

VERSE 3

None of you got nothing to be nervous about

I was never suicidal, shouldn’t be in doubt

Even if the whole world takes turns fucking me

I’m alive for it all even when I fucking bleed

No gulag on earth will break me down

No reeducation camp will knock off my crown

I’m the king of my life, the god of my mind

My body’s made of meat, but it’s an axe I grind

 

CHORUS 2

I’ll give you my fist, do you want some more?

I’ll give you my bullet, do you want some more?

I’ll give you my blade, do you want some more?

Dicks and tricks, I hope you’re ready for more!

I Like Violence

VERSE 1

Columbian necktie, fuck all the dead guys

Fuck all the victims and their prison bitches

Stick a chainsaw right through your heart

Grab a double-barrel and blast you like a fart

I’m gonna bite your neck and take your head

Give it to your wife like breakfast in bed

Put the rest of your dead ass under the dirt

Wipe your blood on my Pantera shirt

 

CHORUS

I like violence

Because you don’t believe in silence

Running your mouth like verbal diarrhea

This pistol on my shelf gives me a good idea

 

VERSE 2

I’m gonna chop down your family tree

Watch it crash on your ass and make you bleed

Put the rest of your meat over a spit roast

Drink your blood and make a slainte toast

I drink to good health and the big, big money

And a lot of nice days in the hot, hot sunny

I think I overcooked your disgusting skin

But you were always destined for a garbage bin

 

CHORUS

I like violence

Because you don’t believe in silence

Running your mouth like verbal diarrhea

This pistol on my shelf gives me a good idea

 

BRIDGE

Violent nightmares have become wet dreams

The crotch of my pants has burst at the seams

I would have busted it any fucking way

With my jackhammer johnson blasting you away

 

VERSE 3

I’m gonna tie you down and make you sing

Watch you squirm while I’m eating hot wings

Squirt some sauce in your pretty blue eyes

Hold a microphone to your pretty little cries

I’m gonna cut you open, flip you inside-out

Put it all on Tik Tok for years’ worth of clout

Jigsaw ain’t got a thing on me

I ripped his eyes out and made him see

 

EXTENDED CHORUS

I like violence

Because you don’t believe in silence

Running your mouth like verbal diarrhea

This pistol on my shelf gives me a good idea

Blast your brains like you blew a freight train

Explode your chest and set fire to the rest

Am I smoking crack or am I just plain sick?

Let me think about this while I stroke my dick

VD at the Dentist's Office

I cross the icy bridge to the dentist’s office

Reach my destination, but find no solace

It’s Valentine’s Day, VD for short

A celebration of romance and genital warts

The perfect day to stick a drill in my mouth

Infected gums, not infected down south

Floss makes me bleed like a broken heart

Like two lovers, my teeth are torn apart

Rince and spit like a fellatio

Lovey-dovey muzak on the radio

Spinning polisher tickles my gums

I scream, but I get the help of no one

“Please be quiet while I’m working on you”

Okay, Britt Baker, tap me out too

Any cavities today or just a hole in my soul?

Just a toothbrush and floss, you’re the boss

I’ll eat my feelings at my local Burger King

Spend money on burgers, not a wedding ring

A pretty smile doesn’t mean a damn thing

I never do it anyways, got nothing nice to sing

At least my dental work isn’t ruined by mono

Sour grapes is my meal, report it like gonzo

News of my heartache broadcast in a frown

Lay alone in bed and put on some “Lonesome Town”

I survived another god forsaken VD

It’s nothing like the shit in movies and TV

I’ll undo my brainwashing somehow, someway

And VD will just be an ordinary day

Two-Sentence Horror Story: A Stone's Throw Away

After an hour of standing in front of the toilet, Frank passed the world’s bloodiest and most painful kidney stone in existence. It could one day be used as the business end of a morning star.

Asking Too Much

Am I asking too much when I tell you to stop?

Did I break any laws, Mr. Keystone Cop?

I refuse to be someone’s damsel in distress

I shouldn’t have my freedoms be put to the test

Am I asking too much when I say back off?

I hate your stupid jokes, does that mean I’m soft?

I refuse to take abuse from my inner circle

I shouldn’t have bruises of black and purple

Am I asking too much just to live my life?

Do I need permission from a nonexistent wife?

I refuse to dignify your insults with a response

I shouldn’t have to justify my needs and wants

Am I asking too much to flee the country?

Can I do it with my own hard-earned money?

I refuse to let you take control of my cash

I shouldn’t have to watch it burn into ash

Am I asking too much to forget the pain?

The kind that feels like getting hit by a train?

I refuse to let the past put me in the grave

I shouldn’t have to be my own traumatic slave

Am I asking too much? No, I’m clearly not

I’m undoing all the damage of shitty lessons taught

I refuse to carry on without breaking the cycle

I shouldn’t bear the burden of a bastard psycho

I’m asking very little

No meeting in the middle

I’m a human fucking being

That’s all you should be seeing

Maximum 3

When I was a kid, long before I figured out what the fuck I wanted to do with my life, my first option was to just invent new things. New videogames, new movies, new TV shows, but in this instance alone, new medicines. And because my mind was thoroughly power-washed by TV advertisements back then, I was convinced that Advil was better than Tylenol and Bayer, Tylenol was better than Bayer, and Bayer was better than nothing. “It takes two Tylenols and three Bayers to match the strength of one Advil liquid gel”. If that wasn’t enough to get my creative wheels turning, there was yet another commercial on TV to wash my brain some more. It was for a medicine that combined Nyquil and Advil into one capsule. The message I received had nothing to do with falling asleep and resting easy. The message I got out of this was that more medicines equal faster healing. So…my genius idea for an all-purpose medicine…was a pill called Maximum 3. Why? Because it was maximum-strength and three medicines combined into one. The leading pills only had one medicine and were minimum strength. Three is obviously better because in America, more is always better. But as an adult with a better understanding of how pharmaceuticals work, I realize what would happen if a normal-sized adult took one swallow of Maximum 3: they would drop dead! There wouldn’t be enough Pulp Fiction needle juice in the world to wake up somebody from that kind of overkill. Come to think of it, there actually might be something similar to Maximum 3 out in the world. The Sackler family made a killing off of it in the blue-collar market. I might as well give my customers a bag of cocaine at this point.

Life After Seduction

VERSE 1

When the only chicks who like you are femme fatales

When she separates you from your family and pals

When she won’t let you speak to any other gals

And then stabs you in the heart until you cry and howl

Just remember that the world doesn’t center on her

And that you did nothing at all to deserve being hurt

It’s toilet time for your expensive wedding ring

“We’re fucking divorced!” is the tune you sing

CHORUS

You can break the pattern, but it’ll only matter

If you cover your ears from the toxic chatter

Life after seduction comes with no instructions

But the light at the end needs no introduction

VERSE 2

You swear to yourself that you’ll never love again

It took so long to get back your family and friends

Single as a Pringle, no need to stay and mingle

Because the only thing that matters is how you feel

She calls you and leaves a thousand voicemails

Begging for forgiveness behind the walls of jail

But you put away your phone and go back to sleep

Because you earned your freedom, it’s yours to keep

CHORUS

You can break the pattern, but it’ll only matter

If you cover your ears from the toxic chatter

Life after seduction comes with no instructions

But the light at the end needs no introduction

VERSE 3

On the therapist’s couch, you’ve got lots to talk about

And then here come the tears and the need to shout

None of your pain will ever leave that cozy room

Don’t hold the detonation switch to your own doom

EXTENDED CHORUS

You can break the pattern, but it’ll only matter

If you cover your ears from the toxic chatter

Life after seduction comes with no instructions

But the light at the end needs no introduction

Life is beautiful and it’s still worth living

As long as you learn the limits of your giving

Takers have no limits to their narcissism

Now you see it all with twenty-twenty vision

Andre the Giant

 MOVIE TITLE: Andre the Giant
PRODUCER: HBO
YEAR: 2018
GENRE: Wrestling Documentary
RATING: TV-14 for violence and language
GRADE: Extra Credit

Seven feet and four inches tall, well over four hundred pounds, undefeated for fifteen years in professional wrestling, first ever WWE Hall of Famer, and above all else, a literal larger than life character. When the name Andre the Giant is mentioned, these are the descriptors that come with it and it was a solidly earned reputation. Wrestling fans wanted to see a godlike attraction, so they dished out large sums of money to see him destroy his opponents like they were nothing. The wrestling business wouldn’t have boomed in popularity if not for Andre’s mystique and extraordinary presence. Watching this HBO documentary on him made me believe in the legend all over again. It made me nostalgic for the “good old days”, at the risk of sounding like an old codger. I gave up watching pro-wrestling in 2018 due to how bad the WWE product had become. Seeing Andre in action being a dominant beast and making fans go absolutely bananas rekindled a tiny spark within me. It made me believe in the “never say never” idiom. Andre died in 1993, but his memory lives forever. This documentary was the perfect way to keep him immortal in the eyes of wrestling fans both old and new. It’s certainly more respectful than a yearly WWE battle royal where the winner achieves minimal success shortly thereafter.

One thing you can’t say about Andre the Giant was that he was a Gary-Stu, or a character so flawless that they become unrelatable. On the contrary, he was incredibly flawed. People think that being a gigantic tough guy is the ultimate ticket to being taken seriously and not being messed with. Fans messed with him a lot. They pointed and laughed at him. They said horrible things about his appearance, like a high school bully would do relentlessly in order to get his target to commit suicide. You would think that macho pro-wrestlers didn’t have sensitive sides, but Andre cried every time he was picked on by snickering fans. On top of all that, being that big comes with physical hardships as well, whether it was his failing organs, crooked spine, bad hips, or arthritic knees. Peers would often joke about Andre’s drinking habits and how he could go through a hundred cans of beer in a single sitting. He drank because he was depressed and couldn’t cope with the physical and emotional toll constant travel took on him. He couldn’t even sit in a normal sized car seat or rest in a normal sized bed. He also couldn’t be there for his daughter Robin when she needed him the most. Seeing this very human side to a deified wrestler reminds us over and over again not to judge a book by its cover and not to wish we could swap lives with other people. Everyone has their own set of hardships and everyone deals with them in their own way. It certainly makes his death that much more difficult to hear about from the perspectives of his colleagues, who also cried, by the way. The gentle giant deserved better than a slow and painful death. It makes me wonder if a Hall of Fame induction and a namesake battle royal are really enough to do him justice.

You know what does do him justice? His main event match at Wrestlemania III against Hulk Hogan for the WWF Championship. This wasn’t just two big guys having a hoss fight. There was a story behind this. This was Andre being taken seriously as a villainous character when he had spent most of his career being a gentle soul. This was Andre posing a credible threat to WWF’s golden goose. This was Andre severing a brotherly bond he had with Hulk Hogan just for a shot at a money-making championship. Hulk Hogan fought through his own tears and gave a resounding “Yes!” in the most emotional delivery possible when the challenge was laid down. The match itself wasn’t a technical masterpiece, but the documentary did a tremendous job in showing the psychology behind it, both backstage and in the ring. Could Hulk Hogan slay the giant and become a megastar that could carry the company through its darkest times? When he finally did with a body slam and leg drop, the audience cheered their heads off. I wanted to cheer my head off too. I wanted to be there in the building to see it happen, but I didn’t live in Detroit at the time. The energy, the emotional investment, the storytelling, they created a perfect storm when Andre’s defeat burst Hulk Hogan into the stratosphere. Again, this was oftentimes a slow and plodding match due to Andre’s mobility issues, but the magic was still there. The magic will always be there thanks to HBO keeping the memory alive.

I don’t give five-star ratings out so lightly, but for this documentary, I’ll gladly fork it over. One way to earn the maximum rating from me is to evoke emotions that I don’t ordinarily feel from movies and TV shows that I just like. HBO’s documentary did just that. It made me fall in love with wrestling again (even if I refuse to watch the current WWE product). It hurt to see Andre in so much agony, be it emotional or physical. It lifted me up whenever his peers would talk about his sense of humor and his kind demeanor outside of the ring. Was he a god on a worldwide level or was he a human being who longed for an normal life from time to time? The correct answer is yes. Rest in peace, Andre the Giant. It’s been many moons since your passing and we still miss you to this day. That’s the mark of a true legend: when you transcend your own death.

Sit With You

Excuse me? Can I sit down with you?

Beginning again is hard for me to do

Making new friends is not my strength

My relationships have the shortest length

One minute we’re talking about nothing

The next we’re distracted by something

A new job, a new house, a new friend

An old foe, an old trauma, and no end

You’re a dinner and movie date away

We want to go, but we can’t even stay

My name is Garrison in case you care

How much of my soul should I bare?

Do my stories bore you? Make you cringe?

Should I move closer to the fringe?

Should I fake charisma I never had?

Is my awkwardness really that bad?

I gave it a shot whether I succeeded or not

Nobody can say I never even fought

On to the next one, whoever that is

Another beautiful soul I learn to miss

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

How much more pain must be felt?

Rejection is a passing thought to you

To me it hurts like a permanent bruise

It’s not your fault and it never was

It’s all on me and enough is enough

Isolation is both a gift and a curse

But at least it can’t get any worse

Loneliness isn’t something to fear

My own demons will always be here

Crippled

“Where the hell is the goddamn delivery boy?” asked Joe Herzog as she laid in bed with ice on her swollen knee. The ice did a tremendous job of numbing her pain. Getting pissed off over a late breakfast burrito did not, as evidenced by her hissing noise. “Why does the damn tournament have to be a week away? This is horseshit! All that work for nothing!” She pounded her mattress and sent another jolt through her leg. “Damn it!”

Figuring it wasn’t a good idea to wait in bed for the delivery boy, Joe wrapped her knee in a heavy black bandage and hobbled out of the bedroom wearing just a white T-shirt and blue sleeping shorts. Every hop had her mumbling, “Ouch!” in a low, grumpy voice. Anybody who made it to the finals of a martial arts tournament only to go down with an injury would be grumpy as well.

Her tiny gnome body made looking at her hallway of trophies and medals a chore. Twisting her neck backwards just to look at second place accolades made her shake her head in disgust. “This is bullshit…this is fucking bullshit…” She resumed mumbling, “Ouch!” as she hobbled down the hall of shame and into the living room.

Resting across her tree stump table was a blue karate dress, one she wouldn’t be wearing again for a long time. Joe wiped away a singular tear with her finger before hobbling and cursing towards the table. “I should probably just set this damn thing on fire. Besides which, who the hell wears a dress into combat? It ain’t like…” She glanced at herself in the full-length mirror and frowned at what she perceived to be a lack of beauty. Joe sighed and sat down on her eiderdown couch. “I’ll get rid of that damn dress some other time. Goddamn knee injury…”

All Joe wanted to do was close her eyes and relax until her food got here. The throbbing and pulsating of her knee kept her eyes wide open no matter how comfortable she tried to make herself. And then…there was a knock on the door. More like a feverous pounding that got louder every time Joe tried to ignore it. “That better be my food or else I’m jamming this good for nothing leg up someone’s ass.”

The pounding of both Joe’s heart and front door resumed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” She hobbled over to the rune-covered entrance, where the pounding grated on her ears some more. “I said I’m coming, damn it! This better be good!” Reaching for the doorknob on her tippy-toes, she almost fell over as she swung the door wide open. “It’s about damn time! Uh-oh…”

It wasn’t a delivery boy. The only food this man was carrying was in his wide gut, about three hundred pounds worth. The scaly orange skin, the dragon-like face, the rotund frame, and the jeans held up by suspenders. A cold sweat broke out over Joe’s face as she fell backwards, giving her a better view of “The Chiropractor” Bargon Sevili. The moniker was silly to her until she remembered that amateur wrestling was his strong suit. She swallowed a lump and said, “Bargon…wha…what are you doing here? The finals aren’t until next week.”

Bargon leaned his drooling face down and said in a deep, raspy voice, “Yes, I know!” He slathered his tongue across his already slimy lips. “Sweet gee-nee girl! Lovable midget pie! Love muffin! Come here and let me…”

Joe screamed in terror before he could finish his cutesy-wutesy sentence. She scrambled to get back up on one leg, but kept falling over and sending more shockwaves through her crippled knee. Her clutches and whiny screams didn’t earn enough sympathy from Bargon to get him to wipe his smile off of his face. In fact, his deafening footsteps on the stone floor made Joe’s head throb worse than her knee.

Instead of trying to get up, Joe crawled across her filthy stone floor using just her elbows to drag her little body. Bargon took his sweet time in approaching his opponent, though the thudding of his boots didn’t help in giving Joe any comfort. She crawled so quickly that cuts and bruises formed on her arms. She swung her bedroom door open and crawled some more.

With adrenaline flooding her system like a biblical disaster, she endured even more scrapes as she hurried over to her wooden chest. She nearly popped her arm out of her socket reaching for the latch, but open it she did. Joe stood up on both legs, her sense of urgency allowing her to numb out her knee pain. The faster she dug through her belongings, the louder the footsteps pounded. Her hands shook as she fiddled with a metal object and some tiny shells.

She loaded the shells into her single barrel shotgun as fast as she could, though not without having to pick them up after dropping them repeatedly. “Guess who, sugar britches!” Bargon taunted in his saccharine ogre voice. Joe didn’t give a shit about her knee anymore. She stood terra firma in the center of her room locked and loaded, her bruised arms still trembling with fear.

The minute Bargon kicked the door open and said, “Ta-da!”, Joe pulled the trigger. She needed this easy victory over someone who was supposed to wait until next week to fight her. She needed to be in first place for once in her life. But the shotgun jammed and blew her backwards, sending her crashing through her glass window and into the grass. Shards ripped at her flesh. Her arms were embedded with glass. Her knee pain flared up to infernal levels. Little droplets of blood stained the grass beneath her. She whined and cried like the second place loser she was.

Even on soft grass and dirt, Bargon’s footsteps grew more obnoxious the closer he got to his victim. He had to squeeze his wide ass through the broken window, but he arrived at his destination all the same. He held the shotgun over Joe’s blood-covered face and snapped it over his knee. He discarded the broken pieces and dusted his hands off like it was nothing. Leaning his head down so that he could be eye-level with Joe, he said, “Give me your knee, you sweet piece of pumpkin pie!”

“Oh god…Oh my god…Please, just get it over with. Anywhere but the knee. Literally anywhere else!”

Despite Joe’s pathetic begging, Bargon indeed grabbed her by the injured leg, causing her to cry out in agony. After picking off a few pieces of glass and getting even more ocular juices out of Joe, he asked, “Are you ready, little darling?”

“…As ready as I’ll ever be…” whimpered Joe as she covered her face with her scarred arms.

“Good, because this is going to hurt like a bitch!” Bargon made good on his promise. He yanked on the injured leg and had Joe yelling in a high pitched, demonic tone.

It did hurt like a bitch. It was the most agonizing thing Joe had been through. But the best part about it? It only hurt for a few seconds. And then the pain was gone. Was she in heaven? Was St. Peter already opening the pearly gates for her? No, she was still on planet earth outside her home. She uncovered her face and wiggled her leg. No pain. She knew the injury was still there, but she didn’t feel like dying afterwards. “You…you really are a chiropractor? Um…uh…thanks?”

Bargon grabbed Joe by her shirt and leaned in so that they were nose-to-nose. His breath radiated with skunk odors, probably due to him not brushing his fangs in a long time. “I don’t need your thanks, Joey-Bowie. All I need from you is to be one hundred percent in the finals next week. That way, when I beat the living piss out of you, there’ll be no excuses. No knee injuries, no glass shards, no bullshit. If you lose to me and get second place again, you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself. You got it?” He threw her against the grass and said, “See you next week, sugar plum” before blowing her a kiss and walking away.

Any gratitude Joe felt for her opponent twisted in the wind when she noticed a foil-wrapped burrito sticking out of his back pocket. “Hey! That’s my breakfast, you asshole!”

Bargon pulled the burrito out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and took a massive bite out of it. With a full mouth, he said, “It’s my breakfast now! Besides, if you want to beat me in the finals and be a winner for the first time in your mediocre career, you’ve got to eat better than this. You’re getting a little chunky around the belly. See you soon!”

As the demonic ogre walked away, Joe clenched her fists and stood up, her knee staying pain free the entire time. She wasn’t thinking about burning her karate dress anymore. She wasn’t looking at her second place accolades with scorn. After a morning like this one, Joe Herzog had all the motivation she could ever want. She would train as hard as she damn well could. She would pump more iron, run more laps, and beat the training bag like it owed her a breakfast burrito.

With her muscles bulging and the shaky adrenaline morphing into raw anger, Joe shouted out, “You should have killed me when you had the chance, you fat pig! I’m not just going to beat you in the finals! I’m going to destroy your career! You hear me, Bargon Sevili?! You’re a dead motherfucker!” Joe raised her fists to the sky and let out a primal scream to anyone who would listen, letting them know that motivation was not an issue anymore.

Take My Demons Away

VERSE 1

Just reach inside my head, pull them out one-by-one

You don’t have to tie the noose or fire the loaded gun

You make it sound so easy to forget the fucking past

Your argument is worthless and it’ll never even last

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

VERSE 2

It’s a simple magic trick that anybody can do

Both of us already know that isn’t fucking true

A wave of a wand or some Fantasia fireworks

Are you my new savior or just a fucking jerk?

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

BRIDGE

Your magic potions smell like bleach

A clear mind is something you can’t teach

Your expectations are too far out of reach

Indoctrination is something you can’t preach!

Take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

CHORUS

Take the bone saw and open up my head

Disconnect the memories until they’re dead

If it’s really so easy it could be done in a day

Then by all means, take my demons away!

Take my demons away!

Pain

OPENING LINE

I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t hurt just so I can make you feel comfortable.

VERSE 1

Why should I be ashamed to talk about what’s hurting inside?

Because male genitals are supposed to be symbol of pride?

If you dig into my corners, darkness is all that you’ll find

Going to catch me like an assassin sneaking up from behind

You could get away with murder if you were in my math class

You could giggle in my ear and put your hand upon my ass

You could take away my ability to focus on the simple tasks

How many polynomials was I supposed to fucking add?

CHORUS 1

Pain! Pain! It’s never really over!

Growing up to have brand new owners!

Pain! Pain! It’s never really fair!

When you attract laughter and wicked stares!

VERSE 2

Why should I be ashamed to dump my problems onto the web?

Because all of this bullshit has somehow already been said?

So much support coming from all over the fucking world, huh?

Yet it still seems appropriate to crawl in bed and curl up

Jealousy and envy are just more feelings for the back burner

Rejection is for suckers who refuse to be fast learners

Charisma is for those who were born with the genetic code

For staying cool when life makes your head want to explode

CHORUS 2

Pain! Pain! It’s never really just!

The suffering and agony were all just a bust!

Pain! Pain! It’s never really explained!

Comes at me full force like a runaway train!

CHORUS 3

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the weak!

It’s even for the supermen and super freaks!

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the teens!

But every motherfucker who loves to bleed!

Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the crippled!

Spreads across the land like an earthquake ripple!

Pain! Pain! Let’s talk about our pain!

Before we become another suicide stain!

Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!

Not Worth the Pain

CHORUS

You’re not worth the pain

I’ve got nothing to gain

From watching you walk away

You’re not worth the trauma

You’re not worth the drama

Tomorrow’s yet another day

VERSE 1

What makes you worthy of my crowded mind?

What makes you worthy of my precious time?

Anybody can wear the shortest of dresses

Anybody can rock the hottest of messes

But only you can break another man down

Get your entertainment from watching me drown

Goodbye, my friend, for now and forever

I wish you the best in your future endeavors

CHORUS

You’re not worth the pain

I’ve got nothing to gain

From watching you walk away

You’re not worth the trauma

You’re not worth the drama

Tomorrow’s yet another day

VERSE 2

I’ve got enough pain in my oversized heart

And you were hardly the end or the start

I’m a sucker for only the tightest of hugs

It’s kind of like being high on opium drugs

Fool me once and the shame goes on you

Fool me twice and it’s really nothing new

I’ve got to kick this habit sometime soon

Before I get locked up like a loony toon

CHORUS

You’re not worth the pain

I’ve got nothing to gain

From watching you walk away

You’re not worth the trauma

You’re not worth the drama

Tomorrow’s yet another day

VERSE 3

Why do I keep on doing this to myself?

Why do I keep on compromising my health?

Why do I form these unhealthy crushes?

Why do I use friendship as my crutches?

Why do you keep coming back in my life?

Why do you keep on twisting the knife?

Why do you keep on breaking my heart?

Why do you like to tear my life apart?

BRIDGE

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!

You’re not worth the pain!

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!

You’re not worth the shame!

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!

You’re not worth the sadness!

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!

You’re not worth the madness!

Jealousy

***JEALOUSY***

In the age of social media, it’s easier than ever to compare and contrast yourself to other people. When you see one of your friends on Face Book getting married, you wonder why it’s not happening to you. When you see a Deviant Art buddy getting an ass-load of faves, you wonder why you don’t have any at all, let alone any views. When you see a Good Reads author achieve an average rating of 4:5 stars on one of their novels, you wonder why yours is below the 3.0 mark. The more we subject ourselves to this kind of comparative thinking, the more depressed we become. The easy solution would be to just stop comparing your life progress to your friends.

In the words of whoever sang the theme to Kingdom Hearts, “I don’t think life is quite that simple.” In the writing world, jealousy works both ways. I’ve had authors be jealous of me and I’ve been jealous of other authors. It’s perfectly natural to feel this way as long as it doesn’t consume you and turn you against the people you love. But that’s the thing: it is all consuming. It does eat away at the soul. I even have examples from my own life to prove this.

There are plenty of reasons to be jealous of another writer, but the one thing I envy above all others is the ability to write god knows how many words in the span of one day. Or one hour. Or half an hour. Or fifteen minutes. I get on Face Book all the time and see that this author is bragging about writing fifty thousand words in the span of a week, thus completing their novel. This author I speak of has an ass-load of books to their name too, each with high ratings on Good Reads and Amazon, so it’s not like any of this hard work is going to waste. Me? I consider myself lucky if I’m in the mental state to write a five-paragraph review for a forty page book. My foggy state of mind is a constant source of ire for me, so when I see other authors pumping out novels like hotcakes, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.

And then there were times when other authors were jealous of me (I can’t imagine why). Those who have followed me on social media for a long time know that I like to write blog entries about vacations I’m going on or rock concerts I’m attending. Last year in 2018, I’ve been to eight different concerts. This year, I’ve already seen three and I have four more in the future. And yes, I’m as braggadocios as the Face Book author who boasts about writing a gazillion words in three days, or whatever the statistic was. Going to rock concerts is something not everyone can afford to do on a regular basis, whether it has to do with work/school schedules, family emergencies, physical disabilities, or just not having enough money for it. So I’m going to try my damnedest to keep my concert talk to a minimum. I’ll still post them as life events on Face Book, but that’s all you’ll get from me.

While it is natural to feel jealous of other people in your life, the one thing you should never wish for is to swap lives with your friends or family. The one thing we all have in common is our pain. When you ask to swap lives with someone you’re jealous of, you take the bad with the good. Suppose you’re jealous of a friend who got married during a seven day trip at Universal Studios. That sounds like a shit-load of fun, but there’s a whole lot going on with that person that you don’t know about. He could be depressed and hiding it really well. He could have mountains of college debt. He could be a pariah in his neighborhood. Just because you see the best version of another person on social media, doesn’t mean you should wish for his life. Everyone has their pain and we all deal with it in our own unique way.

I don’t talk about my personal pain a lot on social media, so when I do it this time around, I hope it’ll ease some of the jealousy you have of my concerts, vacations, or whatever else is going on. You all know by now that I’m schizophrenic, overweight, and constantly tired all the time, right? Now here are some things you probably don’t know. I’ve been unemployed all of my life (except for volunteer work). My mother is having severe mobility issues and needs a walker to get around. I don’t know how to drive a car nor do I own one myself, so I’m confined to my bedroom most of the time. I’m painfully shy in big social situations, so my friends in this town are few and far between. My brother is dealing with bipolar disorder and had a few breakdowns recently. Okay, that’s enough for now. This isn’t a pain contest, but you get what I’m saying. You don’t want my life and I don’t want yours. We all have our own stories to tell and our own destinies going forward. Let it be that way.

If you’re going to be jealous of another person, don’t let it consume your life. The one thing authors need to remember is that we’re one big family who helps each other during the toughest times. This isn’t a competitive field. This is a tag team main event. That’s why I didn’t use names when I gave examples of jealousy, because those people are my friends through and through and I don’t want to paint them in a negative light. We can get shit done together if we put our minds to it. What’s that I always say at the end of my blog entries? Oh yeah, it’s…even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You’re giving me too many things. Lately, you’re all I need. You smiled at me and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but does that mean I have to meet your father?” When we are older, you’ll understand what I meant when I said, “No, I don’t think life is quite that simple.” The daily things that keep us all busy are confusing me. That’s when you came to me and said, “Wish I could prove I love you, but does that mean I have to walk on water?” When we are older, you’ll understand it’s enough when I say so. And maybe some things are that simple. When you walk away, you don’t hear me say, “Please! Oh baby, don’t go!” Simple and clean is the way that you’re making me feel tonight. It’s hard to let it go. Hold me. Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn’t scare me at all. Nothing’s like before.”

-“Simple and Clean” from Kingdom Hearts-

Cry If I Want To

VERSE 1

Whoever said that men shouldn’t cry

Doesn’t know what it’s like to die inside

Macho madness trumps endless sadness

Tough talk trumps worldwide badness

I never bought that and I never will

These emotions were never mine to kill

Here comes the flood of biblical proportions

You can have my tears, it’s your extortion

CHORUS

It’s my country and I’ll cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

If you’re free to wish death upon me

I’m free to let my emotions be

VERSE 2

A romance gone sour can drain one’s power

And then Valentine’s Day will never be okay

A favorite song can tear me apart for so long

Who knew these emotions could be so strong?

Watching death unfold before my own eyes

Is more than enough reason for a good cry

Here comes the river that’ll make me shiver

Here come the tears that’ll make me quiver

CHORUS

It’s my country and I’ll cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

If you’re free to wish death upon me

I’m free to let my emotions be

VERSE 3

They can call me a baby, but it’s a lie

Since when did it become illegal to cry?

Am I under arrest or is this a torture test?

Is the orange uniform the way I’ll dress?

Fuck that! This was never a stupid game

Life itself will never ever be the same

Here comes the ocean of raw emotion

Another day of going through the motions

EXTENDED CHORUS

It’s my country and I’ll cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

If you’re free to wish death upon me

I’m free to let my emotions be

I’m an American and I’ll cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

Cry if I want to

If you’re free to be my judge

I’m free to seek out my strongest love

No Pain, No Reign

“I’ve procrastinated for so long. I’ve wrestled with my conscience. Should I do this tonight? Should I bring this lazy bastard into my home? Should I make him feel my pain? The answer was not just a resounding yes, but a hell fucking yeah!” The grating, raspy voice of the purple-skinned witch Dollhouse awakened Ivan Keith from the shadows of sleep. His head throbbed and pounded like rapid fire boxing blows. The water in his stinging eyes ebbed and flowed. His body weighed down on him like an elephant sitting on his slowly rising chest.

When the Sheriff of Savage Duck County tried to move, the steel bindings in his ankles and wrists cut into him like an executioner’s axe. He laid on an uncomfortable metal table in a T position and struggled some more, but to no avail and only more pain. “Don’t fight it,” warned Dollhouse as she scratched her long, wart-infested nose. The wrinkles in her visage coupled with the shadows brought on by her pointed hat gave her a constant resting bitch face, which only made Ivan’s heart race even further.

“You can’t keep me here forever, old lady,” said Ivan in his southern drawl. “I’m taking you into custody once I get off this here contraption.”

Dollhouse cackled and coughed while slapping her bony knees for extra effect. Quickly reverting back to her resting bitch face, she pointed her elongated finger and sneered, “Nobody’s looking for you, Sheriff Keith. You’ve fucked over so many people that they don’t give two shits if you live or die by my hands. Always drowning your sorrows in beer rather than facing the harsh realities of your line of work. I could have used a savior when my daughter was taken from this world. You did nothing about it but drink…and drink…and drink…and drink!”

The last of Ivan’s stinging tears rolled down his face and his vision became clear enough to see that he was in a laboratory of some kind. Tables full of bubbling potions, tools and devices covered in blood lying about, shackles holding rotted black skeletons, and even a randomly loose eyeball turned this seemingly ordinary hideout into Ivan’s personal hell. He wanted to scream, but his throat felt as though he swallowed a bone saw, so why bother with even more pain?

“Listen, lady…I don’t know who your daughter is…I get lots of cases…I’m overworked…maybe if you jogged my memory…”

Dollhouse flipped an oversized witch on the rocky wall and sent a lightning storm of pain throughout Ivan’s body. His nerves lit up like nuclear heat. Schizophrenic laughter rang throughout his head. Visions of blood-soaked monsters stained his eyes. Ivan finally did scream out and his sore throat felt as though he was being decapitated with a hot blade. Every part of his body, physical and psychological, was corrosively melting before his very eyes. And then Dollhouse pulled the switch back to its original position.

Ivan took a few heavy breaths as sweat trickled down his skin like a heavy rainstorm. “What…the hell…was that?!”

“I’ve been working on this device for years. The worst kind of pain imaginable and I brought it to life. Water-boarding? Boring! Musical torture? Better, but still boring! Iron maidens? Brutal as hell, but boring as shit! If I’m going to get some answers from a filthy liar like you, I might as well get a little bit of enjoyment out of it. What can I say? I feel like I’m a hundred years old. Got to have some fun while I can!” Dollhouse gave another wheezing cackle, which sent ice cold anxiety through Ivan’s body.

“You’re insane!” cried Sheriff Keith. “You really think this is going to work? I told you, I don’t know a damn thing about your daughter! And even if I did, I wouldn’t think twice about turning her over to CPS if she’s got a sick mother like you!”

With a thumbs down gesture, Dollhouse made a game show buzzer sound and hacked, “Wrong answer, dip shit!” before flipping the switch again. The feeling of bathing in hell’s lava while demons and skeletons laughed at his misery invaded Ivan’s body and mind again. His heart thumped so quickly that he was on the verge of cardiac arrest. His brain felt like it was bleeding badly enough to give him an atom bomb of a stroke. Dollhouse flipped the switch back to normal and Ivan once again breathed heavily enough to give him a Buddha belly. Oceans of sweat did nothing to cool him off.

“You still feel overworked or should I flip the switch again?”

“No! Please don’t!” begged Ivan with cascading eyeballs. “Oh my god…that was just…” His heart refused to slow down and his stomach refused to deflate, making putting together a sentence virtually impossible. “If you…tell me who…your daughter is…I’ll help…you find…justice…”

“No, you won’t. You’re just going to cast her aside like you did everybody else. Being tortured is your only motivator. And I’m sure if I just let you go and do your job, you’ll find Isabel’s husband and string him up for the public to see. I don’t want you to just find her husband. I want you to want to find him!”

Ivan’s breathing lessened somewhat and his sentences became more coherent. “Ma’am…I didn’t get into law enforcement so that I could laze about. Nobody does. But sometimes, cases come pouring in and we’re stretched too thin. If you were to kill me now, that would mean less personnel to help you find your daughter’s murderer. I probably should stop drinking so much, I agree with you on that.”

Dollhouse folded her stick-like arms across her dark-robed chest. “I want to believe you, Mr. Keith. I really do. But the fact is…you’ll stick up for your own kind even when they’re wrong. Law enforcement always does. Your coworkers could commit genocide and you’d still kiss their grimy cowboy boots.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Isabel’s husband was a cop under your jurisdiction.”

Ivan’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Wait a minute…you mean…one of my own guys killed your daughter? That’s a little slanderous, don’t you think?”

“You see?!” Dollhouse croaked, causing Sheriff Keith to nearly jump out of his skin. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Paid vacations! Severance packages! House arrest in a lovely seaside hotel! Cops never get the punishment they deserve because shit heads like you keep covering for them!”

“You think it’s as easy as tossing them in a cell?!” shouted Ivan. “There’s a whole power structure at work here, lady! You’re damn right we protect each other! Ratting out one of our own could mean the end of our careers, or even our fucking lives! I’m not taking that risk just because of a conspiracy theory you’re peddling out!”

“So in other words…you won’t help me…because you’re scared? You look so tough in that cowboy hat. You look so cool in that trench coat and those blue jeans. You look like a real cowboy. But in reality…you’re smuggling BB pellets underneath that zipper. Look at it this way, slick: if there really is a power structure at work here, you’re fucked either way. It’s all a matter of which way of dying you’d rather face. You could get shot by your own kind…or you could go through a lifetime of agony on my table!”

Ivan gulped so hard that one would swear he was chugging another bottle.

“Truth is, Sheriff Keith, I could keep that switch flipped until time itself is standing still. Sure, I’ll run up my electricity bill, but when nobody knows where the fuck you are, you don’t pay bills. Like I said before, nobody’s looking for you, Ivan. Nobody’s looking for me either. Even if you did report me to your buddies, they’d never believe that a hundred year old witch tortured you all this time. Come to think of it, they’d die of laughter before you died of ratting out your fellow cops.”

Ivan sighed deeply and tried to relax on the table, but obviously to no avail. He hated to admit it, but everything she said was right. No holes in her logic, but there would be a bigger hole where Ivan’s heart used to be if he endured another round of torture table madness. Then again…

“Let’s say I do help you find your daughter’s killer and bring him to justice. If my fellow cop is a killer…what does that make you, Dollface, or whatever the hell your name is? You built this table because you wanted justice. But in reality, you’re every bit as bad as your daughter’s murderer. Maybe you’re worse. At least when Isabel was shot, it was over with a quickness!”

“Ah-ha! So you admit it! I knew it! I bloody knew it!” boasted Dollhouse as she pumped her arm up and down in victory.

“Okay, fine, so you know who your daughter’s killer is! Why don’t you put HIM on the table instead of me?! Sure, he’s long gone by now, but I’m sure if you spent as much time finding him as you did me, you’d get your justice a hell of a lot faster! I’m just a middleman, for god’s sake! Torturing me isn’t going to do shit!”

Dollhouse sighed and held her face in her hands. “You know what? You’re right. You’ve been right all along. You’re about as useful as an asshole on my elbow. I should have never drugged you and brought you here. Yes, you’re a sheriff, but you probably got that job by putting the right body parts in your mouth. I should just let you go.”

Ivan breathed a sigh of relief, confident his debating skills have saved his life.

“Then again…if you just admitted to being useless…then that makes you an accomplice!” snickered Dollhouse before flipping the switch and making Ivan scream loudly enough to loosen dust from the walls and ceiling. The pain of a thousand gallons of acid and a million knives being poured on his body was back again, but for a much more eternal period of time. His jaw stretched beyond its means as he screamed. His tongue fell out of his head. His heart, brain, and eyeballs were time bombs ready to detonate. His bowels flooded badly enough to sag his jeans around his ankles. His underwear stunk like a junkyard after his bladder exploded.

In the end, Ivan Keith didn’t stand for something, so he laid down for everything.

Cold War

VERSE 1

I could do this all day long

Got to show that I am strong

I’ll wait for you to cool down

To minimize the angry sounds

You fought with me and lost

Stop thinking you’re the boss

This cold war is mine to win

Only then can we both grin

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

VERSE 2

This could end when you say sorry

We could end our little pity party

My door is open only for the calm

Until then, you’re locked in the hall

Pile bookcases against the door

It’s shelter for the coldest wars

Blast my music to drown you out

Go ahead and try to shout me down

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

BRIDGE

Stupid reasons, stupid words

Yet we never seem to learn

Stupid outcome, stupid shame

As we play the blame game

Was it worth it in the end?

Losing yet another friend?

Check your ego at my door

Put an end to this cold war

VERSE 3

Silence is an introvert’s favorite thing

Especially when the heartache stings

I’m still waiting, but I’ll never crack

You’ll be the first to stab me in the back

CHORUS

A slap to the face

Then I turned away

Escape from this place

For at least a day

Silence rules this domain

As we bottle up this pain

What are we fighting for?

It’s just another cold war

Do It For Her

When everything in the world seems to hurt

Just remember that you’re doing this for her

Every hour you work for draconian wages

Is so that she can live beyond young ages

Every sleepless night marked with baggy eyes

Is so that she doesn’t have to grow up to cry

Is it worth the pain? Would you do it all again?

Damn right you would, my hardworking friend

Some things are more important than agony

To say otherwise is the highest form of blasphemy

The future grows darker every single day

Even in dystopia, she needs sunshine rays

Should experience happiness while she’s alive

The world is there for your daughter to thrive

She can be a dreamer, really anything she wants

In spite of politicians who throw their taunts

In spite of billionaires who don’t want to share

In spite of bullies who don’t seem to care

While everything else may feel like a blur

Never forget that you’re doing this for her