Man In The Radiator

When I set out to write this, there was no plan other than trying to do something slightly different. And by different, I mean trying to separate it from myself. To not use "I" or "you" and fall into the same old trappings of writing another poem about my previous failures and past events that have yet to stop haunting me. However, this isn't really all that different at all. I have written about all of this before, many times before. It is always a new apocalypse being painted in my head, always a new nightmare that I have to subject others to so as not to be totally alone with it. And it frequently ends with my damnation of the entire human race. I love so many on this earth, and yet I see no other solution than to rid this planet of this ongoing blight that is humanity. And I see no other possible future other than our inevitable horrifying destruction of each other. There's no point really in even writing about it anymore. It doesn't help with anythi...

  Sentimentality and Scabs  For the past week to ten days, or however long it has actually been, I have tried to sit down and dedicate time to writing. To work on something new, or to continue an old, long-forgotten and neglected project, of which there are several that haunt me every single day. However, exhaustion, numbness, and an existential tiredness beyond description have taken hold of me and dragged me down deep into the shadows of inability, uncreativity, and an astounding sense of defeat. This is typical and is bound to happen from time to time, it is the product of a brain born with insufficient chemicals that wildly oscillate moods and perspectives back and forth without warning, and beyond control. Additionally, as I progress further down my prescription path of antidepressants, antipsychotics, and whatever else they might be giving me after growing numb to everything else - my palm filling up with tablets of increasing sizes, capsules rattling with little eager...