neuroticnecrosis

[neuroticnecrosis]

The Story of the Shoemaker

Have you heard the story of the shoemaker,

Who tans, bends, and mends leather to create the finest shoes?

He crafts them for the bankers, commissioned by the coppers, 

and builds boots for the miners, too

To the community, his skills are priceless and help the economy drive 

But at the end of the week, he sits in his shop and heaves the heaviest cries

For the shoemaker's children have no shoes.

Same for the lunch lady who serves school children hot meals everyday

But for this enriched school system, Her residence is too far away

so, Her children are bound to a district where children are cast away

For the state runs the schools and what they’ll pay,

"Your test scores are too low!" they explain.

And the lunch ladies children have no lunch tray.

Same for the miner in the mountains deep,

Shoveling coal into cars with ease, 

Knowing well his blackened fate.

reverently watching the old timers cough and wheeze.

He takes his pay to feed his kids, pay the bills,

And enjoy an occasional leisurely thrill.

But this week’s pay is different, he has a financial conundrum to choose;

pay his bills or have the shoemaker mend his boots. 

Thus is the tale of people around the Earth, who's blood and sweat barely are noted for it's worth,

But who's labor is necessary for our world to thrive, and a select few to live enriched lives.

Lest we forgot the many victims of systematic violence, who's voices for 600 years have been silenced.

For the mother and fathers who trek through treacherous lands, to watch a Christian man throw their children into a river grand.

For those fighting for the right to live their truth and for all the world’s woman fighting for their freedom and right to choose.

As the downtrodden, forsaken, and abused

we are the shoemaker's children with no shoes.

[neuroticnecrosis]

Hrvat Pobunjenik

They'll tell you that you're crazy

And you need their medication

Yea, well, maybe we're all messed up

Because of their shitty education.

Pure manipulation, blantant fascist indoctrination.

Keep your information cause I'm in a new dimension

You can’t even fathom.

Dig my knee into your national anthem,

It could cause a chasm.

Make your overlords tweak and have a brain spasm.

I am not a dictator, I am your god damn liberator…

Now tell your overlords it’s time for their death chamber.

Been places you've never, ever, ever dreamed

Connected with omnipotent interstellar beings.

They've given me knowledge of unknown supernatural themes.

I can sense your fear;

Knowledge beyond your Yahweh got yah scared.

Well, bootlicker, I don’t really fuckin’ care.

No room for paganism, it’s theocratic rule here

Burn you at the stake, modern medieval war fear

M.J. told us in the 90s that they don’t care.

But you never minded listening because of the media's fear.

My daddy Ukranitz, my momma Adriatic,

Mix Scililian with that Slavic

You get a psycho-pathic bad bitch.

No finesse like Italians,

Got my Balkan goons comin' like battalions

You better run and hide; they real fuckin' valiant.

Better beg forgiveness that you ever even rallied ‘em

Got the snakes and all tools to topple all your holy men

Been places you've never, ever, ever dreamed

Connected with interstellar beings.

They've given me knowledge of supernatural themes.

I can sense your fear. Knowledge beyond your Yahweh got yah scared.

Well, bootlicker, I don’t fuckin’ care.

I can see you wave your flag still like a bunch of fucking servants.

Got my new home drone, human kill shots; it is fully equipped

Don’t care if we’re supposed to be “countrymen” or brethren

I been free-bleeding like a goddamn concubine

I can paint you red, paint you dead,

Paint you like you ain’t got no head.

For all intents and purposes, you are brain-dead.

Let’s see how very far-right you are then. . .

So frightened of my heightened sense of the feminine self

You’re too busy gathering dust on your antebellum shelf

Cucky mother lovers, I don’t want your fucking help

Go get yourself some culture,

Don’t be a lame-ass appropriating vulture

Don’t steal shit cause your traditions are fucking awful

Let us get united, Kill our masters, hype shit

Now it’s their turn to be all out frightened.

These chains someday must be severed

I can’t see that in my kid's present,

Shit, I can’t even see it in their future

No dreams are fucking pleasant.

Got my kids learnin guerilla warfare

And the constitution

Teach them to kill their masters

And take over the fruit, yeah. . .

No root no fucking fruit, chyeah. . .

[neuroticnecrosis]

I hope you cry for the rest of the god damn night. 

I hope you go crazy wondering if you did anything right.

Maybe the next girl you'll treat like your queen;

But I know for a fact 

It's a mere pipe dream.

I hope you lay on your deathbed and fear 

All the transgressions against your peers.

You won't, I have no doubts

You simply live for a stranger's clout.

Your scruples are crumbling under familial stress.

You're mental wellbeing has definitely digressed.

I wonder if you'll ever be self- aware.

If not, I fear you'll die alone here.

Can't you tell I really care?

It's why I am consumed by fear.

Whether you leave me or not,

Its out of my control

But I will carve your heart out if you ruin my daughter's soul.

[neuroticnecrosis]

I hope you cry for the rest of the god damn night. 

I hope you go crazy wondering if you did anything right.

Maybe the next girl you'll treat like your queen;

But I know for a fact 

It's a mere pipe dream.

I hope you lay on your deathbed and fear 

All the transgressions against your peers.

You won't, I have no doubts

You simply live for a stranger's clout.

Your scruples are crumbling under familial stress.

You're mental wellbeing has definitely digressed.

I wonder if you'll ever be self- aware.

If not, I fear you'll die alone here.

Can't you tell I really care?

It's why I am consumed by fear.

Whether you leave me or not,

Its out of my control

But I will carve your heart out if you ruin my daughter's soul.

[neuroticnecrosis]

Part IV of My Novella

Total recall of many times she lost her cool, which always bothered her.

In the soft glow of her flocked Christmas tree, she took a swig of her Christmas ale, a hoppy bite to underline her emptiness. Christmas wasn’t the same since her grandparents died. She once felt she had no family except this little one she created. Now, she just felt like a warden holding prisoners in the chaos of her life. She cried to herself again, as she often did. Looking into the tree, she saw the 25-year-old pack of Christmas socks they bought her grandfather before he died that he never unwrapped and contemplated the past 100 years of family values passed down to her. She couldn’t recall any Christmas traditions, just those of drinking and anger; her only traditions were inherited scars.

There’s no secret that her relationship with her husband had grown volatile; her mental instability was so elegantly put on display like a museum exhibit that only their children ever visited. She knew these memories would line the pages of their story one day and she had no one to hold accountable but herself, for she was the protagonist. The reactionary abuse, although valid, was inappropriate for any occasion. She could camouflage herself against her past and present a new person to the world, but inside, she was the same snake she had always been—just another snake in the grass. 

She dissociated as she looked through the front window, thinking of all the possibilities she had sacrificed to be in this space, knowing damn sure she had sold herself short. How did she come to this position? She is in the same place as her mother, yet she works, cares for her children, cleans, and gives whatever of herself remains to her husband. There is nothing she keeps for herself. She promised the ghost in a shell that she could change and that she would. She still doesn’t understand herself. She takes steps she knows are dangerous and yet, she positions all of her weight on the slimy rocks of a river that never procured any viable catches, and still she wonders why she hungers.

“The drinking,” she says to herself, setting it down just there.

 Within three days, she stands at the record player, places the Hendrix vinyl on the turntable, and positions the needle. She cracks open a beer, takes a sip, and tears form at her ducts, for the wind still cries, “Mary.”

[neuroticnecrosis]

I need ink.

I need the drag of a needle across my skin

I need the ink to paint the pain I'm in.

Turn this old facade into a mural of impetus healing

Hopes of a clean future; mere pipe dreams

I need ink for sutures.

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

Sisyphus Had It Easy

In the Greek myth of Sisyphus, he is cursed by Zeus for cheating Thanatos twice. His curse was to roll a stone up a hill to the top, and as it is to crest the peak, it will roll back to the bottom. Thus, cursing Sisyphus to an eternity of struggle and torment.

Sisyphus had it easy. I've been rolling this stone for almost 30 years but when I reach the top, someone is standing there to push it back with their foot, it's not some force of nature like gravity.

For most of my life, I have been that other person kicking the stone back down my own hill, and those uphill climbs I can accept and handle. But when it is someone else doing it... someone you love deeply, someone you thought cared for you romantically or platonically, or constantly losing out on opportunities because of asinine reasons... I don't know how to rebound so quickly from those.

All I ever wanted in life was for someone to love ME, to see ME and my worth... my potential; not my body, my sexuality... but me; my intellect, my personality, my shadow self. I've come to realize there is no one in this world who can do that because I'm not quite sure I even can. I'm done trying, at the end of my rope... 32 going on 33 centuries. I'm so tired.

[neuroticnecrosis]

No Spaces

Wish I had more places to spill this,

More spaces to feel this,

Anywhere but here to heal this.

Alas, we're trauma bound,

You've become a ball and chain.

Your ambivalence is so frustrating,

My silence to you is enraging

So we'll get to arguing,

And it's so violent; words like poison arrows, 

Designed to cut down to the bone marrow, 

Giving this disconnect the fertilizer to grow.

Communication is hard, but we always make it harder

We always find ways to be the martyr,

And the other's the shit starter.

You never own up to it, can't take anymore of my shit.

We're trapped and there's no escape,

We're caught up in a cycle I'm trying desperately to break. 

How can we break it if we're not even aware our role in it?

Always just half-baked, always just wanting the cake.

But I don't want to be that wife, tired of being a civil union whore.

I know there's so much more, so much fucking more locked deep down inside.

But who am I? Who are we?

Who will our children become?

The answers all reside with our ancestors;

Antidotes all been carried away in hearses.

So, now I try to conjure up some cure with these verses,

But it simply comes down to my choices. 

How I choose to react, which relationships I chose to keep in tact.

Which places I choose, which faces I choose to lose,

Not spaces.

...

I'm Sisyphys, compulsively rolling the stone 

I always feel so alone, longing to find my way home.

But I never really strayed far from the neighborhood 

Far from what really felt good, far from what felt right,

Even though there were fright nights; 8 pm ass-beatings, and word fights.

My therapist says I need a plan, need to make a stand, 

But I can't find stable land, plates that dont ever shift,

Folks I know won't dip, places that I can't slip.

Sometimes my brain seems so helpless,

Don't know much about mental wellness, 

I only really know how I'd want to end this

I've worshiped despair like she's the sun goddess,

Trying to find ways to a mind that's fogless,

Trying to find any kind of progress.

Generational abuse is only so much an excuse,

Haven't found my way out of this caboose,

Still grasping the noose, 

I've decided I don't want to ride on this train,

Don't want to die at my own hand

But there's zero escape velocity, I cannot out race this.

So, I find myself back in the same places,

With the same faces.

No space.

…

Worried for my family, a victim of another’s sin.

I really have my doubts; do the good ever win?

Slowly losing my family, time is wearing thin.

I have no other places to fit in…

No faces I recognize as kin.

No spaces. 

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

Void.

Something is missing on a fundamental level.

There's a presence that escapes me to no avail. 

But what nature of that presence it's hard to tell,

And I've wasted so much time in revelry. 

To find out what can satisfy me 

Yet nothing has ever managed to succeed

I am a bottomless cavern; cut with teeth.

My frontal lobe is a catacomb; filled with neurotic contemplations.

I get stuck so often in states of dissociation.

There is nothing to soothe this, I must exploit the charade.

Alas, all my passions must masquerade as catharsis 

There is no place for me here, nowhere;

an orphan of the ether.

[neuroticnecrosis]

I am not of this planet, an alien to the moon,

Cosmic specimen that infiltrated a womb.

Blacksheep now as I've been since birth.

Eternal wanderer, a misfit soul's curse.

- je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

Fabricated.

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

I often wish I could have a relationship with a woman in the way mother's and daughters do, or sisters, even...

I'm constantly aware of this deficit in my life. I've always felt the emptiness of being bondless from creatures like me... those who understand the nuances of being a woman.

[neuroticnecrosis]

Everyday is a constant struggle to hold back the pain Those grotesque smiles preventing regurgitation;

    It all makes me so sick.

I was born to suffer, we all were.

There are no qualms about this.

Even if you disagree,

You Are Wrong;

    simply trying to scrounge any sense of beauty 

    and meaningfulness from this never ending

    maelstrom of our creator's excrement.

This world is a cesspool and we are damned here;

For the same reasons... the same sins.

Some people like to prop themselves above everyone else, no matter how minute the scale.

But they are only fooling themselves.

This world regards all beings as insignificant.

It's cruelty is impartial

Find a way out.

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

My mind's full of thumb tacks,

I can't eat or sleep

Neuroses made a comeback,

My anxiety's peaked.

I cannot see to the future

The outcome looks bleak

Nostalgia's a suture

For a gash that still seeps.

These reminiscent distractions

Keep my demons at play

I'm part of their faction

There's no getaway

So many attachments

For my habits to fray...

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

Need to contaminate, to alleviate this loneliness.

[neuroticnecrosis]

In the Light From the Moon

Darkened rooms hide gaping wounds,

If only they were cauterized by the light from the moon,

As it sneaks past the drapes in this vacuumous space I've made a tomb

A dungeon so dark all mirth is consumed.

It's been this way since I was as a fawn.

All the bulbs I buried in the garden came to rot a worthless pursuit for sutures or clots

But now there is a flower in bloom and these drapes need drawn.

The wounds are revealed as if arose a new dawn.

But fear pulls them closed and not but a slit remains,

The tomb is shuttered into darkeness again

Surrounded by remnants of friends and kin

These haunts who call out, "You must let the light shine in!"

And thus it begins; compulsive transcribing on paper with pen.

But these ghouls are never satisfied; salve for my wounds is eternally denied,

I'll reach for one of many masks I've contrived to carry on the biggest lie

And pretend to thrive while the blood glistens In the light from the moon

That sneaks past the drapes and exposes these gaping wounds.

-je suis secretaire

[neuroticnecrosis]

if you have ever suffered from…

• depression

• anxiety

• eating disorder

• self-harm

• ocd

• bipolar

• feelings of guilt and hopelessness

• suicidal thoughts

can you please reblog to show support for people who also suffer.

you are not alone.