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

It's Only Offensive When I Do It

It’s only offensive when I have a crush

I’m the only one with a reverse Midas touch

It’s only offensive when I crack a joke

It’s only funny when my dreams go up in smoke

It’s only offensive when I seek out friends

Rejection and turmoil never seem to end

It’s only offensive when I write my lines

I’m the only one worthy of a hundred dollar fine

Nothing about my lonely life is ordinary

The blood on my hands is not sanitary

I don’t look like you, I don’t talk like you

I’m the only one with a shit-load to prove

It’s only offensive when I take a stand

My painful screams echo across the land

It doesn’t matter anyways, nobody hears me

Everybody in this world fucking fears me

I’m a walking weapon of mass destruction

Who’s in desperate need of liposuction

Never once mastered the art of seduction

Never once needed a proper introduction

I sold my soul to the devil, the underworld level

My favorite escape is hard rock and heavy metal

I don’t need to contribute to your society

I’ll keep building my dreams ever so quietly

It’s only offensive when I’m the one who does it

So offensive it brings the world to destruction

Socially awkward is the name of my game

Everything else would be too fucking tame

You Hate Me 'Cause I Love You

VERSE 1

If I put this out into the universe

Will you be the one who hurts?

If I say this to your lovely face

Would it invade your personal space?

If I told you I loved you until the end

Would you cease to be my best friend?

Is it worth taking the biggest chance

Or will I fumble and fall on my ass?

CHORUS 1

You hate me ‘cause I love you

You choose to walk out of sight

You hate me ‘cause I love you

You choose to call it a night

VERSE 2

I’m sorry if I’ve offended you

But everything I said was true

I don’t take any of my words back

I’ll take them deep into the black

CHORUS 2

You hate me ‘cause I love you

You choose to end the whole thing

You hate me ‘cause I love you

My broken heart forever sings

VERSE 3

My eyes are open, yet full of tears

Planned this confession for many years

Went against my instincts and worst fears

I see it all, it’s now so vivid and clear

I should have kept this to myself

Loneliness is no good for my health

Got desperate and made a mistake

Watched you cry, watched your heart break

CHORUS 3

You hate me ‘cause I love you

I’ll pack my bags and fuck off

You hate me ‘cause I love you

How could I be so damn soft?

You hate me ‘cause I love you

I’ll get my ass on an airplane

You hate me ‘cause I love you

Anything to keep you sane

Sex Surrogate

VERSE 1

It’s been forever since our last session

Not much going on that’s worth mention

I still coast through life at a turtle’s pace

I still have my famous Resting Bitch Face

Should’ve called you when I had the chance

Not much happening in the way of romance

How many more sessions am I allowed to have?

Can we still meet for at least an hour and a half?

VERSE 2

I’m sorry I’m late, but traffic was a mess

I’m sorry for these excuses I must confess

I got cold feet and stalled for a while

I might as well be walking the green mile

We all know how this session will end

I can’t be cured, but I can make amends

I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be

Whether in bed or in life, nothing is free

VERSE 3

I must admit that I’m starting to like you

I’m sorry if this confession frightens you

I know we can’t have romantic feelings

But it’s a desire which I’ve been feeding

You’re married and happy, I understand

Reciprocation isn’t something I demand

I just had to get it all off my chest today

What a wonderful time to feel so brave

VERSE 4

This isn’t working, give me back my pills

This never ending pain is mine to kill

Sedated and jaded, everything has faded

Nothing left after my ego has deflated

The comfort zone is calling my name

It tells me to stop playing these sex games

It tells me that taking risks is foolish

Maybe I’ll listen until the day I’m ghoulish

Cold

VERSE 1

I gave up on helping you a long time ago

The tears in your eyes continued to flow

You never wanted help, never wanted peace

The negativity never really wanted to cease

You argue even after being proven wrong

Your heart is weak, your ego is strong

I’ll never help those who won’t help themselves

I guess that makes my heart cold as hell

CHORUS

You wonder why I act so cold

Because this shit is getting old

Sick of watching drama unfold

It’s the final time you will be told

VERSE 2

Believe it or not, I was once in your shoes

But I turned negativity into the oldest news

Took me many years to see clearly now

At my kind of age, I’m feeling damn proud

My ego was once the size of good old Texas

I had no interest in cleaning my own messes

I hated the world with a burning passion

If I hadn’t listened, I’d wear funeral fashion

EXTENDED CHORUS 1

You wonder why I act so cold

Because this shit is getting old

Sick of watching drama unfold

It’s the final time you will be told

Call me heartless, call me cold

Your hand was never mine to hold

Take a chance, be brave and bold

Or sleep underground covered in mold

BRIDGE

I’ve never been great at the toughest love

Now my new role fits just like a glove

You’ve pushed my buttons too many times

With the number of times I’ve heard you whine

EXTENDED CHORUS 2

You wonder why I act so cold

Because this shit is getting old

Sick of watching drama unfold

It’s the final time you will be told

Call me an asshole, call me a bastard

Call me anything, it doesn’t matter

You’re going to listen if you like it or not

Wipe away your tears and bubbly snot

Believe

Believe in the beauty of rock bottom failure

Believe you can cross rough waters like a sailor

Believe this world is yours for the taking

Believe in the beauty of the art you’re making

Believe your heart is made of pure gold

Believe you can crush the lies you are told

Believe your soul can never be sold

Believe the fire inside can never go cold

Believe in your own battle-tested story

Believe normalcy is so damn boring

Believe conformity is never the answer

Believe indifference is the ultimate cancer

Believe passion is more powerful than a pistol

Believe true love is stronger than a missile

If you know something in your heart to be true

Sitting back and watching isn’t the thing to do

You have a voice; it’s time to make your choice

Make a bold statement or just make some noise

Believe in your power to shake the landscape

Look beyond the train wrecks and bad days

Believe in your power to never give up

Despite the many days that just might suck

Believe the end is only the beginning

Believe this is truly a life worth living

Pull You Under

Spencer Henry spent what seemed like hours at his apartment staring angrily at a photo of himself. His cheeks were trembling. His eyes were burning and watery. Every muscle in his body tensed up. The picture he held in his hand was taken at the age of 21, when life was beautiful and happy. At age 40, all he felt was the fiery sensation building in his belly.

“I hate you,” he finally said to the picture. He said it again. And again. With every repetition came more fire and volume in his throaty voice. He said it so many times that his hot breath started to resemble that of a dragon. He couldn’t care less how thin the walls in his apartment were. He didn’t care how many warnings he got from the superintendent. There wasn’t a whole lot about life that Spencer cared about. Just rage. More and more rage.

“I’ll pull you under, motherfucker!” he suddenly screamed before punching the glass-encased photo. Punching glass probably wasn’t the wisest move of Spencer’s life, but a middle-aged man’s wisdom went away a long time ago when the hateful dialogue poured from his mouth like snake’s venom.

The shattered glass cut deep into Spencer’s fingers, splattering blood all over his carpet. The screams were much louder and more barbaric, but this time it was out of mind-blowing pain. He wrapped his hand in his burgundy polo shirt, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. It kept pouring like a raging river and all Spencer could do about it was kneel to the ground and wait for help to arrive. Someone must have heard him and dialed 911 by now. The walls were thinner than a Catholic wafer sometimes.

The last few minutes of Spencer Henry’s consciousness were spent bleeding all over the floor and adding tears and snot to this hodgepodge of emotional fluids. Fading to darkness was probably the best thing that could have happened to him at this point. He wouldn’t have to think those hateful thoughts of himself any longer.

But the thing about being rescued by first responders was that the patient eventually had to wake up. The fuzzy brown and white-haired Spencer awakened slowly and painfully while wearing a paper thin hospital gown. He had wires and tubes going into his body as he lay there on a semi-comfortable bed. His previously bloody hand was covered thickly in white gauze and showed no distinction between fingers, like a mitten of sorts.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Mr. Henry. We thought we’d lost you there for a minute. I’m Dr. Josie Cosgrave. I was in charge of your hand surgery.” The good doctor sat at the edge of Spencer’s bed with a hunched over posture and her chin on her arms. Her pose suggested that she wanted to talk about more than just a few stitches or some medication. The look on her darkly-complexioned face suggested something far more serious. “Is there a reason why you punched a picture of yourself, Mr. Henry?”

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders before saying, “I’m just a little stressed out right now.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” said Josie with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “There’s just one problem. People who are just a little stressed out don’t unleash a Mike Tyson assault on a piece of glass. They also don’t cry incessantly and fight the same EMT’s who are trying to load them into the ambulance.”

“Wait a minute…I did all of that?” asked a weary Spencer.

“All that and more,” answered Josie. She meandered over to the side of her patient’s bed and held his good hand in a semi-affectionate way. “Something’s bothering you, Mr. Henry. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out one way or another. The answer just might determine if you need psychological counseling or not.”

“Yeah, like my insurance is going to cover that,” said Spencer while throwing his bad hand in the air sarcastically. “Oh wait, I forgot. I don’t have insurance. People who fry fish in the afternoon and write crappy novels at night don’t have that kind of luxury.”

“So is that why you’re so angry at yourself?” asked Josie. “Because you’re pissed off about how life has treated you?”

“What a mind,” said Spencer with even more sarcasm in his voice.

“You don’t have to be a wise-ass with me, Mr. Henry. I’m not your enemy here. I’m your friend. Yes, the hospital bill is going to be expensive, but I personally didn’t take this job as a doctor for a paycheck. It took it because that’s what I love to do. I love helping people like you get through their worst moments.”

Spencer shook his head and smiled unconvincingly when he said, “That’s it, huh? That’s the answer to my problems? Just love what I do and do what I love?” Silence overtook the room before it was broken with a sad sigh. “I really thought I could do it. I thought writing a novel and getting my name out there would give me a comfortable life. I thought I’d be a rock star by now. My novel, ‘Pull You Under’, has been edited countless times by countless people. God knows how many drafts I’ve got.”

Instead of interrupting the flow of the conversation, Dr. Josie Cosgrave squeezed Spencer’s good hand and gave him a look of concern. She didn’t want to talk at that moment, just listen. And damn, did Spencer have a lot to say.

“And then…just when I think I’m finally getting a big break…” A solitary tear rolled down his cheek. “Those asshole editors take their rubber stamp and brand my manuscript with the word ‘reject’ in beg red letters. Reject! That’s what I am to these people! I’ve spent the last ten years sending in that novel and all I ever got was a mouthful of battered fish and French fries for lunch! Every damn day! Every day, another fucking stamp! How many more times are they going to do it?! Why can’t they just say ‘yes’ for the first time in their lives?! Three fucking letters, one fucking word! Yes! Yes! Yeeeeeeeees!!”

The rage has finally boiled over for Spencer Henry. He ripped his good hand from Dr. Cosgrave’s clutches and tried to rip at the bandages and stitches in his hand. Josie tried to pin the furious man’s arms down, but he was much too powerful for her and shoved her to the floor. The man was so pissed off that he started foaming at the mouth with saliva. He was determined to rip his hand to shreds and put an end to his lackluster writing career forever.

Once again, the power of his fiery vocal cords brought help when he needed it the most. Dr. Cosgrave got up again and along with a team of blue scrubs nurses who just came rushing in held Spencer’s tensed up arms down. He put up a wilder fight than a raging bull being lead to the slaughter. Nurses were shoved backwards and more foam poured from Spencer’s mouth.

In one quick motion, Josie stabbed Spencer in the arm and pumped his bloodstream full of sedatives. He fought like a rabid wolverine for a few more seconds and then slowly, but surely descended into darkness once more. By the time he was knocked out, the spittle on his chin looked like he had a Santa Claus beard. The nurses all breathed sighs of relief while Dr. Cosgrave took a napkin and wiped the spittle off.

Spencer Henry didn’t wake up for another hour or so. When he did, his head was pounding and his jaw felt like he’d taken one of his own right hooks. His vision was blurry, mostly from the tears he shed, but it was eventually restored to where he saw Dr. Cosgrave at the foot of his bed again along with a team of nurses in the background.

“Truth is, Mr. Henry,” said Josie in a much more stern voice. “The writing business isn’t all frills and gimmicks. Rejection is common even for the most popular authors who are drowning in a sea of revised drafts. They have a name for going through that kind of hell: it’s called paying your dues. I know you felt like you’ve paid yours with one hundred percent interest, but you have no idea how much further you have to climb.”

“I…I didn’t mean to scare you guys like that,” said Spencer with a weak voice.

“I’m sure you didn’t, Mr. Henry,” said Josie with her arms tensed at her sides. “But we all know why you did it. You did it for the same reason that me and my nurses have: because you feel underappreciated. You’ve paid your dues time and time again. Well, guess what? So have we. So has anyone else who’s ever had a career. We as a society are all in this together. The sooner you let us into your world, the better off you’ll be. Whether you’re a writer, a doctor, a construction worker, a teacher, or otherwise, the struggle and the stress are both real. How will you respond to yours, Mr. Henry? Are you going to give up and flat line in that bed of yours? Or are you going to keep on fighting this endless war? We’ll fight for your life, but only if you fight for yours too.”

Spencer let out a deep sigh and said, “I want to keep going on. I want to believe there’s something out there for me. I just don’t know what it is and how I’ll get there.”

“That’s the beautiful thing about life: you don’t have to know, because it’s not laid out for you. You have to make your own destiny. Your medical chart says you’re 40 years old, but your life is far from over, my friend,” said Josie. She let her words resonate with Spencer for a minute and then she continued. “I’ve been saying that shit for a long ass time now. Some of my patients believed it, some of them didn’t. Those who believed it became successful in their lives or at least happy with what they’ve got. Those who didn’t believe it eventually grew up to be stored in our morgue’s body lockers.”

Spencer tried to calm himself with some basic breathing techniques as he thought about what the good doctor said to him. Was she right? She could be. But she could also be someone collecting more money than a professional fish fryer. Either way, it didn’t matter. The pissed off author was now calm enough to make his decision in his 40 year old crossroads. “Does anybody here know of a good editor I can hire?”

“Not off the top of my head,” said Josie with a satisfied smile. “But I can look it up for you.” As she pulled out her smart phone and did a Google search, Spencer relaxed into his pillow and let out a deep breath, thinking at last that he was on the right path once again.

Why Are You Laughing at Me?

VERSE 1 I wrote a story from cover to cover
For every one of the literature lovers
My imagination ran wild with fantasies
Autographs for those who are asking me
Making it rain hundred dollar bills
All because I had some mad skills
Then the red ink dried on the page
The word “reject” sent me into a rage


CHORUS 1
Tell me why! Why are you laughing at me?!
Tell me who! Who should I try to be?!
Tell me what! What the fuck is your deal?!
Tell me how! How should I fucking feel?!


VERSE 2
I worked up the courage to ask her out
Cleared my mind of any possible doubt
Calmed the butterflies in my round tummy
Waiting for a kiss so romantic and yummy
She laughed at me alongside her plus one
Goddamn, that’s just so fucking fucked up
She could have said no and it’d be over
She made me curse myself for being sober


CHORUS 1
Tell me why! Why are you laughing at me?!
Tell me who! Who should I try to be?!
Tell me what! What the fuck is your deal?!
Tell me how! How should I fucking feel?!


VERSE 3
I’m not a clown and my life is not a circus
You’re the joke, your opinion’s so worthless
It’s amateur night at The Laugh Factory
It’s your turn to curl up in dreaded agony
How does it feel to be under the microscope?
How does it feel to lose every ounce of hope?
You wore my shoes and walked the green mile
The pain is all yours via the laughs and smiles


CHORUS 2
Tell me where! Where is the justice in this?!
Tell me when! When will you end this shit?!
Tell me now! Give me your final answer!
Too late now! Give up, you laughing bastard!