Today

I’ve been dead for years and you just noticed
Today you watched me float away without saying a word

You could have at least giving me a hug
Nothing destroys me more then your Public displays of affection

Nothing hurts me more then the fact that your happier then me
I still don’t know how long I’ll last

I’ll probably just go home
And I never thought about love truly until today
And now today I’m dying, today I’m losing all that I used to have
Today I’m losing my mind

Today I can’t spell, today I’m shaking

Today I need you, and you aren’t even awake yet

I need your approval today and I need to feel normal
I need to touch the ground
I need to be free
And the scariest thing is that i might live long 

For More from Anthony Day Grandin:

Twitter: @AnthonyDayGrand 

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SuperSerious

 

I had a girl, thought it be cool

Singing little lullabies against the flow of time

And I’ve been round the way, and now I’m back

I’ve flown on the back of the past

I’ve studied every frame of every memory

Worry about my fix as the whole world dies

Living a happy life that is all a illusion

Slavery is the best option because in your own depravity you didn’t even move

Let’s go find some models and get with the groove

Got a few hours left, so much to prove

I Hate You

What are you girl, with your soft brown skin gleaming in the moonlightI lost everything to you
And you may still have my heart
but not for long

Name your price, to allow me have everything back
Not everything i can still have
But i’d do anything to take back the first day i met you
I couldn’t have lost myself to a more shallow of a person
I hate you

My Life

Yo, nearing the image of suicide growing up in a world where my drink of choice was cyanide, you think I lied, this poetry harder than most writers who have lived or died
Writing with blood dripping down my arm trying to disarm my mind before I dismantle everything in my body, my head down gripping a shotgun, out here they don’t have funny names, because in these parts they don’t play little stupid games

Even these parts, walking around skinny with scratches on your wrist, wearing hand me down jeans laced with your little brothers pissed

Your face…stained with my and daddy’s fist

They were going to fornicate or get drunk quit before they got real mad and they’d start into a violent fit
this is real life, making weapons when you’re three

My eyes so closed I had teach myself how to see, while I got judged for my pants that didn’t match the tee

In a rich little school where looks were the key

Hated by my own race, it came natural

Listening to metal that sounded a lot more factual

Rocking my body back and forth with my walls splattered with blood, my back covered in sweat and going downtown with my life being my first bet

Some said quit the sad talk, be happy

With my teeth all fucked and my hair still nappy

How was I supposed to have a chance, born with a predisposition?

I’m not strong enough to keep seeing my dad’s dead body or listening to my mother flipping

 

The music sounds like an orchestra, waiting my for mom to hit me with a nice hard slap and my dad out of the corner of my eye, wielding a baseball bat
My aunt Cleo said she knew what was going on, but she was to busy watching the game to even Yawn

Injuries matched with inconsistencies, I tried to make myself a different entity

But I was so from it, I didn’t just free fall I gunned it

Feeling like massacring everything and everyone around me, but I loved them to much to see, the amount of pain that I had grown to relive and give on paper

Scars as long as your intuition, looking for a friend

Screaming holding my ears as a pre-teen waiting for the brutality to end

Forced to defend and now I’m subjected to therapy

With some old white woman named Marty telling me to go and school and learn all types of fancy grammar

My words have the Killswitch and the pencil is the hammer

Looked down by most as a heathen and some a fiend

Killed before I even became a teen, the smell of the mop on the floor with the blood curdled up by the door

Get scared during movies, feeling weird when seventeen year old boy is a virgin, expected to become a whore or at least blow something up wearing some type of turban

They say they understand me but the most they could handle is my description being a little bit urban

If this is to dark, I dare you to not proceed

Because for once I’ll be the mouth and you’ll be the meat

Metal

I’m trying to captivate you

Yeah time is relative so I don’t think you understand that I can’t stand next to another man

Long lost love and living losing much more everyday

 

I try to believe in you

But god damn I’m just your biggest fan longing for you when I can

And I’m scratching so hard right now

 

Can you see my little eyes?

Did you hear me, can you see my little eyes staring at you as the time defies and in the forest the wolves scream and cry, listen to me now so you can hear me die

 

I’m not a part of you, I’m not your friend

I’m just your little slave, listening to your odds and ends

You shit on me, when? That Depends

Whenever it’s convenient for you, whenever you want

All you do is flaunt

But when I’m dead and gone

You’ll become gaunt

I’ll be the setting sun and the moon will haunt

I think it’s bad now, wait until it really begins

Wait until the night whispers…

…And the noise descends

 

I’m not something odd, don’t believe in your god and just losing my fucking mind listening to you cry and whine hearing the same god damn lines, you are shit and when I hear your voice in your little fits. I’ll light you on fire and put you out with spit. I’m not no fucking motherfucker, you heard me twice and you’ll hear me again, you treated me so bad and we aren’t next of kin

And
I might just burn in sin but at least I know I’d leave this world with one less loose end

WARMONGER IN THERAPY: Nothing Last’s Forever

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image

Learned tonight that it’s rare that something lasts forever, and that Life is just a cruel game. It’s why some of us resort to Metal and Hardcore music, because it’s a mild obscenity to the world that you can throw up. I don’t want to hear about love, and sex and kissing, all that bullshit. Like come on, where is the cutting, the hate, throw a little violence. Life isn’t fun, life is a bad joke that has a fucked up punchline.

Tonight is a turning point in the Warmonger in Therapy. I decided that i may not have as many close allies as i thought before, which is a perfect background to become an author. A lot of people highly doubt my ability to write let alone publish three books in less then a year. They doubt my skill, my resources and my ability to even stay alive, luckily i actually quite enjoyed THE ARTIST so i’ve become deaf to the bullshit. Lot’s of bullshit, or bollocks, i can’t use that word but i wish i could.

Not to say that I’m scared for the future but I’m far more cynical, as of tonight everything i thought was driven purely in the white snow has crashed while riding through the smog. Worst of all it crashed in a nasty pond full of regret, anger and fear. I’m fearful for a lot of things, i’ll make sure you guys get to know your humble narrator far better as the moments pass. Forget the poetry, i’m going to cut straight to the chase. There is nothing better for writing then dread, pain and then those moments when you are shocked by a certain event. Right now i’m shocked by a certain event so I decided to write

I’m a masochist, not literally. I haven’t gotten to the point where Bruce Willis needs to rescue me from Zed or Kakihara, but i enjoy pain in an emotional capacity. It makes life far more interesting, rather then moseying around a liberal arts facility for four years, fornicating and drinking cheap beer, i’d rather adventure into the depths of the mind for a couple of years. I’ve given myself two years to explore the pain and to see how far it can take me.

After all this is Warmonger, the Plight and the Fury, not the fairytales of peace, love and virtue. Please prepare yourself for a bumpy ride, because i’m not by any means afraid to drive through the smog. Let’s Hit It

 

Woah

 

It’s to disregard all the nonsense because I realized I’m actually on this

Not on one, on two or way more than a few

Cooking up concoctions like stew and I’d blow you away right out of the blue

Don’t believe in yourself when I’m around

Don’t make a sound because I’m enjoying the silence

Depeche Mode getting violent and ripping apart the streets looking for consignment

Ripping apart my heart, staying non existent and insane because I can’t mind it

Memories

 

 

Images of a broken home splattered in my memory

Thoughts of changing myself plague my entity

Tired, with no more energy

Fed up with no shoulder to cry on

My self-worth desecrated like the love of those who have gone

Left me abandoned, can’t even speak to tell you what I’m planning

Can’t make out the words, can’t understand the future

Feeling blue, still fucking thinking about you

Damn you worthless woman stuck in my head

Damn your beautiful, please just wish me dead