“no i never want to fucking see you again”
surrounded by death and tattoos makes a man hard. make a man cold
makes a man like me break down and cry.
my father is dead.

am i dead too?
never had the chance to meet him, much less meet him.
i even missed his wake.
carry me fellas–i’m reeling right now.

so much time is spent now working on bullshit.
carrying around this bullshit.
thinking about this bullshit.
listening to everyone else’s bullshit.

so much bullshit that my blood and me didn’t have the time to get in touch.
he had a family besides me, and i’ll never know.
he had a whole separate life besides me, and i’ll never know.

i’ll never know my father except for the views of my mother–and i don’t want those.
the only father i have now is going to die soon as well…i’d give him life if i could.
i have him on my elbow now, as a reminder of how awesome he really is.

i am the thing that walks through the streets unafraid of Death.
i the thing that enjoys your pain, while inflicting more and more upon myself just so that i can stay ahead.
i walk the streets alone, looking at the weak bags of flesh that pollute my landscape, hoping for that one outside chance of an errant atom bomb exploding on your face killing everything for a 5 mile radius.

that would be something else.
instead, i am stuck here to watch you fucking ass disintegrate my world into a horde of weak masses crying over me eating red meat and drinking whisky and speaking my true mind.
so what if i can’t be politically correct.
if some “ethnic minority” was stabbing you to death, what would you say?
you know what you would say–anything to get their ass offa your stabbed body.
hell, i’d be a roman catholic as long as my ass would stop gettin stabbed.

maybe what we all need is a hard kick in the ass, and a mouthful of blood to gain a little perspective.
did you know that right now, almost half of the world is thinking about fighting someone?
what a joke.
everything we do is a fight these days…i fight daily for the air i breathe, since i know the first chance they get–they will take it from me, just like everything else.
these days, i gotta hold onto everything i have extra tight.
and then i burn it, because possession is a load of weak shit that is only useful for manipulation of the masses.
enjoy your existence now while you can, you fuckers.
i’m coming back hard….at 1,000 miles per hour on foot.
it’s time to burn my life