troubletext

Some reason

jacksauce — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 21:38:17 +0000

you’re not alone
you never have to feel like you are
whatever happens to “us”, i will always be here for you
forever, no matter what
you need to know that

Not here

jacksauce — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 05:37:36 +0000

Death is her friend and she thinks of the music she would want played at her funeral
and I will be sad to see her go, because she is the only thing in this life that has made me happy
I don’t want her to go but she’s tired of this world…

Please don’t leave me beautiful girl. I’ll never find someone like you again…and you know it’s true.

I love her so much, but I won’t cry for her death, but only for my own selfishness.
It will be me who will be in pain until the end has pity on my soul, unable to have more moments
like those we share now, laughing and looking at each other and looking away, holding each other so tight so we can both feel secure. You told me, “We’re damaged goods man!”….

What can I do? You don’t ask to be born and you don’t ask to be in love.

Those tears on my face as I write this, they’re not for you. You can’t have them. They are for me and I will not give them to you…

Until we meet again in another world, in a world that can handle you and the love I have for you so we can be together…until…the…light…never…returns…and our shadows become…nothing…but…darkness

I hear

jacksauce — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 00:24:33 +0000

Suddenly I hear everything around me. I hear the bong shake. I hear the change in my pocket. I hear cars on the street. I hear people talking. I hear dogs barking. I hear someone playing The Doors. I hear a couple hating each other. I hear man wish for his last breath. I hear a man smash a bottle off the wall, look at the sharp edges of the broken glass and wonder if he should end it all. I hear the last shred of hope disappear in to thin air. I hear a mother worry about her son. I hear a woman getting slapped across the face for nothing at all. I hear love putting its finger in a blind man’s ass. I hear believers loose faith. I hear diamonds sparkling on the finger of a bastard. I hear holy mountains crash at the feet of feeble men who chose not to see its fake smile. I hear you as you read this mindless drivel. I hear myself and I wish there was more. I hear a woman hold back tears with a blank stare as he sticks it in. I hear a young child wish they were dead for things that do not understand. I hear everything you said to me when you promised that it would be ok. I hear me laughing when you’re at the lowest point in your life. I hear demons waving their finger at what I have done to you. I hear everything.

Unseemless Integration

jacksauce — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 20:43:55 +0000

There we were, in that bar, so dark, unfolding the madness that we know so well.
Look at you, so beautiful and strong, your soul giving me a good shot at this thing called life..
You are so beautiful when you’re drunk, laughing, with those eyes that stare so deep…
You tell me everything and for the first time in my life,
I feel like I’m with someone who understands the \_depths_/\__of__/insanity\__the way I do…I don’t have to lie about who I am, but yet, things are hidden….

I watch you, play your instrument like how life has played you…..
You know what they’re saying, but they’re not saying it……
They look at you but they don’t know you…….
They don’t know you like I do……..

For a moment, I felt like those poor Japanese, seeing the tidal wave that tattooed inevitability on their faces, forever frozen in time………

Some things happen, things I’m too embarrassed to talk about..even in this writing……….

The point I want to make is that I faced the decision and I went with you………..
and as you were laughing, you were crying, and all I wanted was to be sure you got home safely…………
She wouldn’t allow that to happen and my rage never felt so strong………….

I watched your face as you drove away and I know the look of never looking back…………..

Right now, you are standing in front of me playing your instrument and I want to know what you’re thinking and what you’re feeling. Why do you play music? Is it out of fear? Or is it the fuck you?

We are lost in time, a time that never existed……………
We are the cursed ones who bleed the souls of those who used us for their own pitiful imaginations…………….
We are the ones who take the pain of others just to hide our own……………..
We will die knowing………………

I fight to hold back tears of joy when I’m with you
It reminds me of just how much pain I’m in

You are the most beautiful everything………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

My Hate

jacksauce — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 00:38:07 +0000

How can I hate someone so much that their absence leaves me feeling alone. You fucked me over for life. We can’t be friends. I can’t treat you with respect. I can’t look at you as a friend.

You stuck a knife in me that can never be removed. You fucked me up for life. For good. There is no forgiveness and being with you is only an opportunity for me to treat you like shit.

Everything about you bothers me.

I’m also jealous of you. Having never worked for anything, you’re sitting pretty and I’m still in the terror. I’m still suffering. I’m still blaming.

It’s ok to have the double standard.

Fuck you. I wish I never fell for your tricks and bullshit.

You put a fucking curse on me the moment I met you. I can’t forget what you put me through. I can’t take back the shit I did to you. I gave up who I was for you. I gave up everything.

So what if I was a fucking cocky, straight edge clueless twit. You took that away from me and what are you now? A selfish materialistic slut on her way to nothing, living off the souls you’ve crushed along the way.

I hate you but I won’t stop thinking about you. I don’t need you and you never needed me.

t4fr4ijr5gij,35fij,4j5r

./.\.

jacksauce — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 09:03:23 +0000

How does it feel to always be the most beautiful thing in the room?
How does it feel to be the girl who can take the breath of ordinary men?
How does it feel to be the special something that forces mundane in to submission?

Poetry is an insult. You make talented men loose words. Your power is unlimited. Your smile will kill me. Your friendly touch kills me.

I’m unable to believe in the existence of a happiness mapped by the impossible possibilities.

Believing in God was a laughable until I met you. Nothing so amazing can be created by earth alone. You are one of the angels that makes me question everything. I can’t begin to understand until I understand you.

Downfall

jacksauce — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 08:23:19 +0000

Am I in my downfall? Can a downfall be masked by something that seems positive. Can you allow your life to slip away while in the midst of quantifying your success?

I forgot how to be better. I’ve lost motivation in the only thing that keeps my head above water and if I let that go, I will truly be fucked.

I used to say, “as long as I keep this job thing going, I’ll be fine…”

well I’m 35, I have a negative bank balance, I’m fat and unattractive to everyone, I live in a tiny apartment and I have nothing to show for all this “experience”.

I allow one thing to take over my life. I can’t do anything in moderation. I’m a fool who never learned from my own history.

This isn’t poetry. This isn’t a story. This is just vomit coming from the mirror in my mind. I don’t love anyone and I get the same in return. I’m a joke. There is no respect from anyone because I don’t deserve respect.

I used to be good at a thing or two. When I was young, I was good at a lot of things.

I used to have a clear, sharp, mind. What do I have now. I can’t remember what I did an hour ago.

Memories don’t exist. As if I’m too selfish to be pre-occupied with actual memories.

I’m very much alone. I’m very much alone.

Someone says hi to me and I get excited and my fantasy takes over and I image that someone will appreciate me for me. But why? Why would someone waste their time on someone that doesn’t even waste time on themselves.

How much longer am I going to pretend that I’m not going to fall over from a fucking heart attack if I keep being this out of shape and this disgusting. How long am I going to lust over beautiful women who would rather take a needle to the eye than to consider being attracted to some fat fuck who doesn’t give a shit about himself.

When am I going to wake up? I’ve been given this opportunity. I live in Los Angeles. How many people in fucking 10 generations where I’m from get to say that? Not many. Sure, I’m doing stuff but it’s with the bare minimum of effort. Why does everything have to be easy? Why can’t I realize what I’m actually capable of? Maybe because I’m still making excuses about my mother and father taking away my childhood and my life. Such small town people. I see absolute horror on the streets on a daily basis and they were pissed because I stayed out too late.

When am I going to live again and be that person I know I could be. That person I used to be. No one should say the best time of their life was when they were 12.

Look at where I’ve been. The future can be whatever I want to make it.

I have been trained and fooled to be something I’m not.

I NEED OUT. I NEED OUT. I NEED OUT. I NEED OUT. I NEED OUT.

Wake up. WAKE THE FUCK UP.

Angsterdam

jacksauce — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 00:31:07 +0000

It’s 1:05am in Amsterdam. Cindy is here and we are fighting. It seems Europe releases a special kind of rage in her. She keeps accusing me that I’m gay, which enrages me. I guess my co-workers pointed out a gay bar today while we were in Haarlem and asked me if it was my kind of place. Without knowing it was a gay bar, I peeked inside the window and thought, sure, looks like a good bar. This triggered Cindy’s homo probe and she was immediately shifted to the gay accusation brain, which surfaces only when she’s looking to propel her anger in to the stratosphere.

She says I fucked my once friend, Terry Miller, in the ass in San Francisco. Or is it the other way around? I think I have it backwards. Terry fucked me. She’s positive of this, or so she says. I believe she uses it just to hurt me. To acknowledge this thought of hers, alone, is enough to send me in to a spiraling crash that usually ends up with me punching myself, grabbing at the air, talking to God, walking in circles, thoughts of suicide, total pain, and total resignation to the fact that I am nothing but a pathetic piece of shit that has gone wrong so long ago, that I don’t even know what it’s like to be one of those normal people, open and free, confident and alive. No one respects me, my co-workers have turned me in to a joke, I have no close friends, I’m in Europe and I feel like dying some kind of tragic yet pointless death. Every time she screams in my face and let’s me know exactly how worthless I am, I want to chokes on my own tears.

She truly hates me. She can’t stand to be around me. She doesn’t want to touch me. She doesn’t want to look at me. She wishes I could just disappear.

Here I am in Europe, thinking I was going to make her happy, having her meet me here, an expansion of the limited space she knows as LA, and she hates me. Would rather I jump off a bridge and never bother her again. What do I do? Apologize, beg, plead, and all the usual pathetic things pathetic people do.

This isn’t love, even though I love her. This isn’t a future, even though I keep moving forward. I haven’t felt good about myself in a long time and this is the truth I have to deal with on a daily basis. On the dawn of my last day, will I smile, or will I cry, beg, plead for a chance to live one more day.

She doesn’t care.

jacksauce — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 09:18:04 +0000

“You don’t care about me at all.”

“No I fucking don’t. I’m going back to sleep.”

and I know she means it. She’s given me nothing to believe otherwise. But I lie to myself, to the point that words hold no weight. If the words have lost their meaning, then the pain becomes dull. Nothing can be said to wake me from this denial.

I feel old and I’m disinterested in most things where people find satisfaction. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a genuine laugh. My only amusements stems from the lightning flash of disbelief at the absurdity of our world. Those are moments of relief, but they are too few and far between. The remaining seconds are spent believing and knowing that we are all doomed and that the light at the other end, has long since suffocated in the desperate fantasy some call hope.

If you tell the person you love that you feel like you’re dying and their reaction is to scream, then put the gun down and remove the bullets. Stop being so selfish. You are already dead…and guess what, she still doesn’t care.

These are the days…

jacksauce — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 22:51:27 +0000

These are the days when you can’t laugh
These are the days when you want to cry, but nothing comes out

She left all of my clothes at the Washington Blvd Metro Station
I was late picking her up from the laundry mat and she had enough

She was always willing to do the things I hated, laundry, clean up around the
house

and you’d think that would be good enough, but it never was

and I tried to be that guy, but I was never really that guy

I know what she wanted and I never gave it to her

My selfish heart, never believing in us, never believing in myself, never believing in anything

I know what she wanted and I wouldn’t give it to her
I just sit on my ass, complaining, pointing, pushing, ignoring…

I don’t know why I didn’t give her what she wanted
Maybe because she deserved to have it
Maybe I’m just an asshole like I’ve been told…

I don’t think anyone deserves to be with a bitter, lost, crazy man, who will never understand what they have until it’s completely beaten down to the point of resentment.

When I tell people that I need to be alone, it’s not need that keeps me here, it’s kindness for the other person, who I know I will beat down to the point of no return…and returning is usually something they never do.

Never once did I seek out to hurt those closest to me
but somehow, I never really try to stop it from happening either