Feeling so incompetent
Just useless as fuck
Time after time again it seems
I’m straight shit out of luck
The world keeps spinning
Around and around
I’m stumbling off my feet
Getting stupid dizzy
Crumbling underneath weak knees
Will it all fall into place
Before I lose my mind?
Sanity ain’t what it used to be
It’s slipped right out of line
I know what it’s like
To be an Orang-utan
With a sack or blanket
Covering your head
Not begging for attention
But wishing to be dead
I hate Christmas
Yeah, I know
A wretched taboo
But I hate the shit
Out of that damned day
Yeah it’s true
I really do
I can never afford
The compulsory gifts
I don’t even know these people
Well enough to get
Anything near fitting
So much pressure
Even if you go handmade
They don’t actually give
Less than two shits
About your bullshit
Laborious hand-crafts
Your efforts tossed away
Doubt they’ll see another day
Then the cupboards
Raided, left bare
There’s food to be had
By an army of sad
Soul-sucked bastards
Filling up my house
Demanding the world
As if it hasn’t already
Been hard enough
To get through
The miserable year
Now life throws one last
Festive themed curveball
Get the fuck out of here
You spent the year absent
Stop pretending to care
So it seems my woeful fable
Has done a back-flip, landed stable
Now I’m becoming much more able
To fight the illness that made me flail
The agony has matured
Aged past the brewing point
Apathy is being ignored
Less focus spent on flaws
It’s been more than thirty days
Since my body has been saved
Free like a liberated slave
From perpetually stoned ways
Life seems to be back on track
As I’ve rested and relaxed
It’s time to face the fact
That I no longer need a quack
This time last year
There were maggots on the floor
Of the house that I adored
A lifestyle of the flawed
Twenty Thirteen was my best
There was never time to rest
Traveling far and wide abroad
Wishing there was always more
Grand memories to be made
New places in which to play
Beautiful people on display
But all those great times washed away
Down the darkest of storm drains
I lulled aimlessly in the gutter
Eventually messing up my brain
Smoking all the pot I could each day
Drowning in beer without delay
Working hard as hell to pay my way
A lifestyle of the slave
Silence breaks sharply
As the church bells ring loud
This loss of a great life
Shan’t have been allowed
The Angels have claimed her
In a swift robbing of graves
Though I know of no real God
I plainly hope she’s been saved
If there’s a switch in my brain
To turn off the anxiety
I know I’d certainly flick it
And forever be freed
It’s pretty fuckin creepy
That I don’t even cry
When the news comes through
That someone special has died
Maybe I’m desensitized
Or have a heart that’s cold
It could be the medication
Or just part of getting old
It doesn’t even matter
Because she’s dead now anyways
A constant awful reminder
That we are born just to decay
I feel like a black sheep
Leper of modern society
I need padded walls
So when they cave in
My head will stay intact
… Again
This probably all seems
A little bit too much for
The internet to grasp
Words transcending digital realms
Grasping through the screen
Aiming straight for your heart
A gaping atrium choking on blood
Like it’s been punched in the mouth
And left dead to rot
Between the strangling and gargling
This assemblage of words
Won’t make any sense to you,
Or possibly even me.
And that is why I’ll forever be
The blackest fucking sheep.
I want to break out in open insurrection
Tear down the walls of this villainous system
Burn every wretched page of the constitution
And wreck all ideals of modern civilization
Personally disordered 