Member Poem

Brain Storm? Yeah right....more like a...... Nuerotic Hurricane
Yeah that's it;)

I am a chaotic mess of despair and uncertainty. I choose to ride solo cuz all i love ends up hurting me. I'm a functioning slave of dismay and tragedy, only the Pain can bring out the glad in me.
I have had many days now to think of what lays in store for me. Encased with the shame of failing my family. I have so much remorse and heartache deep inside the epitome, of my being that I know that my soul will rot in hell for eternity.
I'm just a plague in this world of all that stifles humanity. Like some grotesquely strange new wave of macabre parodies. If you feel my pain then you're in tune with this melody, and likely to crave this predictable mystery. I know of no ways to change the paradoxical symphony. This ironic twist to a life that was formed somehow magically, created in stride longer than an Olympic athlete. Or a troubadour who forgot how to live rythmatically. Or a terrible choir who has no concept of harmony. If I had a chance to escape the dark that envelops me, I'd be lost in a trance of hypnosis and calamity. My pain knows no end and i say that emphatically, I'm a nervous wreck that has been suffocated spiritually. I'm persistent in my friendship with that bitch we call misery. We're like peas in a pod if you can feel the weight of my gravity. Pulling at the ends stretching all that was left of me, if there was even something left of my pride and my dignity. I'm praying for some type of reborn opportunity, or some religious calling from the devine holy trinity. Any break would be welcome from this insanity, or a loss of this feeling that every one has abandoned me. Enraged? Not anymore it left with my sanity and feelings of happiness I have no ability, to see where I was or what is left in front of me, would be like saying that locusts had no sense of choreography. Can I hold on and keep what is left of my humility, my spirit is torn all i have is my honesty. Doomed to see hell fire is my probability, to eat with the damned is how I'll spend my eternity. I'm done with these words so much for philanthropy, a play on some words that have been written sporadically. Tormented by deeds that have been praised by profanity, I'll live out my days wondering, waiting, hoping, fanatically. That one day I'll get my day in the happily, ever after that is supposedly, promised to hold immeasurable amounts of serenity. I need that the most in the worst of severities. But for now I just wait on my yearned for eventuality. I don't want to sound harsh or come across over callously, but I'm predictably holding onto what could be gradually, seen as a curse of the worst of formalities. No way of correcting my life and my sick personality. I guess it could happen? There is still a chance of some possibility, of someone or something that could potentially, save me from myself and that bitch we call misery..........England Chaotic rantings of the insanely critical conscientious objector.