get to know me

 blah, thats how i feel Facebook
i feel like my complaints aren't worth listening to
i feel like i live in a country that is so busy patting itself on the back for its progressive ideas and its new innovations that they don't realize people are starving on the sidewalk of the building they complain about working on.
what's on my mind? my mind is filled with horror the color of normal
my mind is a dungeon filled with massacre and bible verses
my mind is an overflowing house of awful dreaming about rape and falling out of airplanes
waking up confused is never new
staying that way all day isn't either
i want to gut my mind and start over, because i have no idea why I'm filled with bile
it won't come out when i write
it won't come out when i writhe and scream my heart out
when i hit my punching bag or praise God in church service
it comes out when I get lost and my GPS malfunctions
it comes out on the people that depend on my provisions
it comes and goes when and where it pleases
and the gasoline in my blood ignites itself and extinguishes just as quickly
the murder in my heart won't let me be my brother's keeper
and I'm too wordy to tell the story to anyone who will listen
i sing my anthems in hushed tones to no one
but when i say it out loud it feels more real than in my mind
i can try to be deep but i sink
I'm too crooked to be straightforward
i need a doctor to fix my broken heart
i need a dentist to fix my crooked smile
i need a psychoanalyst to set my broken mind like a bone
cause i dream about things that horrify me IN the dream
my wildest fantasies include standing in line and giving myself a blow job
they include shooting myself and many other people
they include fighting giants and driving spaceships
they include getting control of a runaway car to save my siblings
and nuclear blasts that prompt me to ask forgiveness
my wildest fantasies are a friend i feel comfortable saying this to
and a woman who will still love me at the bottom of my barrel
this is me
small fragile me
grief stricken from the loss of my soul
i miss my innocents so much where'd you go?

but its a dry hole
i sometimes wish i would've gotten to see more people die
i sometimes wish that IED would've gone off
I sometimes wish id have been more honest
more honest
more honest
morehonest
moronist
...

i pray and feel God
i hear a voice i don't recognize
my inner dialogue look like sock puppets
i saw them once in a lucid dream and they looked at me...
there are 4 parts to the soul because plato forgot to add the landscape they lived in
i wish i knew i wasn't insane
i wish i knew i was not a monster
i wish i knew that it would get easier
i wish i knew you better...