The boy, the devil, and the pain.

Is a dad a voice in the back round when there is too much noise?
A man to yell when you have not picked up your toys?

Is he a man that says that he loves you, but only to his friends?
The man you did not want home again, you wanted the pain to end?

Is he the man six feet under torn asunder?
Not hearing his voice is like rain with no thunder.

Dancing through the pedals dealing death to all who know,
The little boy runs, and runs, but his feet will never go.

His brain has shut down, his soul is buried underground,
No tears ran down his face, because his suffering made no sound.

She is high in the other room, the other man is drinking alone,
The boy has to pay for sins, he did not need to atone.

The screaming demons keep him up at night,
His heart is so cold it does not cause him a fright.

Dancing through the pedals dealing death as if it was his friend,
Now he stares at the rope wondering if he should end life's loose end.

Father is gone and the cycle of the body has begun,
Walking alone at midnight, you forget there is a sun.

This was a story about my father, then it became a story about my pain,
Every single day is another fight to be sane.

The boy turned into a man, and that man into a beast,
It is just the monsters pain never ceased.

Dancing through the pedals dealing death, as if he did not exist,
The boy, the man, and the beast, all wish they were not on the devils list.

Adam the lustful

At three o' clock every day he used to walk past by the school, he did it so often it simply became his ritual. Just to watch the children play, he never did anything just three o' clock came along, and he had to go. He walked past by the children and they did not know, the parents did not know, about his thoughts about staring at them, harming them, and finally taking them. He treated them as if they were all the same, all little devils marching in his head, going towards his unholy bed.

Then Adam went home ate some take out, because facing the world to get groceries sickened him. He watched some of the news on t.v. and watched in awe when a kidnap case came on, but also was disgusted with his lustful gratification from it. He used to sleep like a infant, but woke up at three in the morning every night horrified from his thoughts earlier that day. Adam was diseased, and he knew it well, but three o'clock rolled around and he had to go and watch them play.

Adam one day stared at the chair and noose, knowing that if he did not do it today the beast inside of him will be let loose. He wrote a sentence on a piece of paper "good bye cruel world, love a monster". Three o'clock rang on his clock, but Adam did not go for his body was hard as a rock. He stayed there for hours, weeks, and eventually one month.

Adam then became the talk of the town, no one knew why he left life down. They all gossiped, and made their own theories, about his death. Some say he killed himself because of a lover, some said it was because he was gay, others that he was just sad and that was his way. Three o'clock rolls around, and now Brian walks around, same beast different form. A battle of wills, and a crown of thorns. Brian walks by and the children do not know, and the parents do not know, about his thoughts. Evil replaces evil, and good just stands by, I just hope no one gets hurt as Brian walks by.

Planet earth

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z4c-ru6Y2k&feature=youtube_gdata_player

William the judge.

The knife slowly slides inside the abdomen of his unsuspecting victim, she cannot scream because her killer has his other hand tightly grasped over her mouth. As he feels her life slowly slip away, he then begins to slowly drop her into the snow pile in the dark alley on third street, between the 24 hour convenience store, and wacky Al's furniture emporium, she is not the first person he murdered on this holy day, and she definitely will not be the last. This time though he almost felt guilty, because once her soul finally left her filthy night women temple body, a car drove by illuminating the alley for just one quick moment, and then he saw it. Her eyes were not the eyes of a adulterous whore, no her eyes were as innocent as a little girl who lost her family in the mall. Just as quickly as the feeling of guilt came though, the feeling of hate quickly overcame it as he remembered his mother smoking crack by the Christmas tree, and a strange man she allowed to come up to her sons room, and do horrible things just so she can get another high. No she had to die, just like any other night stalking whore women, in fact all women had to die in William's eyes, but not all sins are equal, and he must judge them all fairly.

As I stand there looking thoughtfully at my doom, I could only think, did I leave the oven on? Blood flows from my wrist, and onto the bathroom floor, but I could only think about the mess being made. My eyes see darkness, and death gives me a cold embrace, and I could only think was this my fate?

Moving on

I hurt as though a knife has pierced my soul,
Ripped my apart, to destroy what was whole.

Did I do it to save my sanity?
Or to indulge my vanity?

I wonder why I stood there while she cried,
Because I felt as though I have already died.

I am done forevermore,
As I listen to the lion's roar.

Gone, gone, gone, there is nothing left,
My heart has been a victim of theft.

Nothing here, and nothing there,
My mind sits and goes nowhere.

Now I sit here alone and depressed,
But this was a matter that had to be addressed.

I am sorry my first love of mine,
Hopefully everything will be fine.

A horrible truth.

Death never seemed so real, till I closed my eyes, and they never opened again. My body got colder, and colder, and nobody could do anything to stop it. My hair fell out, my skin fell off the bone, and the worms began to have their fill as they made there way through the red chestnut casket. My soul wandered from grave to grave, and all I ever saw was the same damn thing. Death, decay, and forgotten souls. I left my eternal resting place to roam the world of the living hoping it would be better. The only thing I saw though, was more death, more decay, and even more forgotten souls. Man is better dead, for when they are dead, they can only hurt themselves, and the innocent stay innocent, and the wise get wiser, and the fool has time to think. This the reality of death, the horrible truth, but even after my words, I pray death never finds you.

As I was a child I used to be afraid of the monsters in the closet, but now the only monsters exist are the ones in my mind. "Go out and hurt people", "Hurt yourself", "Eat McDonald's", they make me do evil things, and evil things is what they love.

Just kidding I don't really have any writing for you guys, thanks for coming by, and I will have something tomorrow for you all!

The corn field seem to go on for hours as John ran through it escape his ungodly pursuer, it was tall, dark, and its face was non existent. It seemed to be messing with his mind because it effortlessly chased him as though he was running through quick sand, and it was soaring above the ground like a hawk swooping in for its prey. This monster though did not catch him, it did not even look like it was interested in him, it only wanted to make him run, to smell his fear, and to take his humanity. John was no longer a man running from a monster, he was a rat running from a lion. Logical thought disappeared under the powerful breathing, the sweat that stung his eyes, and his muscles the begged him to submit. Like the rat though that runs from its doom, it doesn't matter if all hope is gone, the only thing John wanted was to live.

Start of a new story I want to write, just giving everyone a taste, thank you for reading this and have a good day.

Betrothal of madness

Back out of the light, and into the abyss,
Into my suffering, and moving away from bliss.

Work hard towards mediocre goals in my life,
It is hard though when madness is my wife.

She dances with me when I am alone,
She makes me feel like I am known.

Madness shows me no pity, only my mind,
But she only shows me that I am blind.

Run, dance, scream at the top of your lungs!
Ignore everyone`s word for they have vile tongues!

You are a beast a monster ready to attack,
You can do anything, because a soul is what you lack.

She talks to me all day and night,
And for this I know she is a blight.

I hate her, and love her all the same,
She is loose, but a beast I can tame.

Oh god she is here and out again!
Then I realize she is my brain....

There is no Alexander just a self reflecting devil,
He will never be on a normal mans level.

Whether man lives or dies, nature will still go on.

The Lamb

The lamb is the creature I used to love,
I felt its glorious smile from up above.

But in truth it was nothing but desire,
It was like I needed my soul on fire.

To have purpose and drive towards the great divine,
Even though I was dead, I pretended I was fine.

I followed the lamb till my sanity disappeared,
The lamb leaving was the only thing I feared.

As time went on my heart grew cold,
I felt guilty for the soul I have sold.

I no longer wished to sing and pray,
I started to follow my own way.

Now I see the lamb doesn't even try to get me back,
My soul was washed white, but now it is black.

I do not need a faith to keep me whole,
I no longer will submit to its control.

I now stand alone, marching to my end,
I no longer have to pretend.

The lamb is something that now fills with disgust,
My mind now is the only thing I trust.

Fun times at the beach

Alexander went to the beach and never came back,
Some thought he was a victim of an attack.

Truth is that Alexander loved to swim,
The tide went out and came back in, but not with him.

His body floated and drifted for hours on end,
There is a party on the bottom of the ocean, and his body will attend.

After three months of him being gone, no bodied seemed to care,
It was like Alexander was never there.

He was just a man who loved swimming at the beach,
But he made one mistake, and he will be forever out of helps reach.

Swimming, drifting, and now he is gone,
The fact of life is though, that is goes on, and on.

Life as I know it.

I remember that I used to laugh at people who I figured to have failed in life, but as time goes on the people I used to joke about seem more normal to me. I had such a annoyingly confident outlook on my life, I used to think that I was for sure going to get the best grades, get into the best schools, be the best person I could ever hope for. Now I work full time making just above mininum wage at Vaule Village, the " Number one thrift store in the world!", Oh god what have I done?

I sit here typing, hoping, that someone finds interest, maybe they can even empathize with me. See my failures through my words, feel my pains as I write them, maybe even in some small part of them like what I write. What does it matter what the other person feels though? Does their feelings alter mine? Does their feelings change my decisions? No I only march on in a army of forgotten souls. I am Alexander Miller today, and today I remove the bandaid from my heart, and begin to write to be healed once again.