I Clearly Really Hate You

​Oh good.

Underestimate me.

So I can embarrass you.

Not like that’ll take much…
I’ve met some pricks in my time

but you sir are a cactus

well, maybe one of those miniature ones

if you ran like your mouth

you might be in good shape

nothing brightens up a room like your absence

acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger

in fact we need a microscope to see yours

you have more dick in your personality

than you’re ever gonna have in your pants

look after your eyes dude

they’re the only balls you’ll ever have
If I wanted to kill myself

I’d climb up to your ego

and jump down to your IQ

did someone stop payment

on your reality check

you’re the reason nobody likes you

I look forward to reading your obituary

stupidity is not a crime

so you’re free to go
Did your brain take a laxative

cuz there’s way too much shit

spewing out of your mouth

it’s time to flush it down

I would slap you

but shit splatters

I’ve found puddles deeper than you

I love the sound you make when you shut up
If laughter is the best medicine

then your face must be curing the world

if brains were gasoline

then you wouldn’t be able

to run a flea’s go-cart two laps around a cheerio

the last time I saw something like you

I flushed it

if everywhere you go there is a problem…

guess what…
I have one nerve left

and you’re dry-humping it

go away

get a condom for your heart

cuz I’m about to fuck your feelings

hey train wreck

this isn’t your station

you’re a dildo…

like I’d call you a dick

but you aren’t real enough

I’m not saying I hate you

I just hope your next BJ is from a shark

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Posted in Drama, Mine, Petty Shit, Rants & Raves, Song Lyrics, Ya Done Fucked Up | Leave a comment

From my portable Book – Ego Problems

Note:  These types of entries are dashed down hurriedly as I am on the go.  Sometimes they don’t make much sense.  But they do come from deep intuition…  So here we go.

EGO PROBLEMS

Ego must be put in check so that the soul’s voice can be heard clearly and so that the heart’s path can be seen and followed.  Heartsong is always drowned out by ego’s flamboyant symphony…  Because we are taught to ignore ourselves and love the material and believe in the false.  We forget that we are all individuals.  We try to blend in within the guises of society, but much of society is superficiality and lies.  We are all under the grave misunderstanding that if we simply put a pretty face on everything and everyone, no matter how terrible the deeds they have done or how awful the world is at any given moment, everything is just fine.  Mind control…  Thought control…  The media, the government…  With every move and every word, we lose our Selves in the mires of what we believe we want as told to us by the rest of the distracted, completely fucked up world.  If we all self-actualize and rise up, that illusion would be destroyed and the world would become a confused mess for a while, but then…  The possibilities are endless…  What we could do for the people who truly need it the most…  Right now, as it stands, we are all too afraid of commitment.  We must commit to mutual understanding and to loving the whole rather than individual petty concerns.  How we must look to outsiders…  Those we don’t see who watch us…  Our ancestors are ashamed of what has become of their progeny…  Until we realize that we are all connected to each other through our soul patterns, our soul DNA.  If we do not band together to save ourselves and our planet, we wwill all go down together, screaming, in flames.  Don’t think for a moment that ignoring this will help any situation.  We ignore it, we are doomed.  We must stop hiding behind hatred and superficiality.  We must stop ignoring the cries our Mother makes, before She dies.  We must take care of Her the way we used to, before politics and technology and toxic mind pollution distracted us from seeing the truth, the one right before our eyes.  We have to stop just sitting by while others kill our planet, and all of us.  We must awaken!

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Determined To Save Me

I was told once, long ago, that in order to heal, I must face myself.  Well, no one ever told me that facing yourself hurts so much.  Digging that deep, down to the scrapings of marrow in your heart, it’s like burning and having your skin impaled with millions of thorns and rubbing salt in all of the wounds, all at once.  It’s feeling so broken you can’t fathom ever being properly whole again, ever feeling right again.  I have felt…  wrong…  for weeks.  I only feel okay when blasting my music, or losing myself in a book or in a show or movie, or working on some of the projects I’ve been getting so deep into lately.  I can’t tell you how difficult the world looks to me right now.  It’s a mountain, even facing the drive to work every morning.  I love my job, and I love everything about my world right now…  Except for my heart.  It’s bleeding, broken, battered and bruised and I don’t know how to go about healing it, or even mending it enough to continue loving like I’ve never been hurt.  I still have guilt and I still have self-loathing and I can’t make it fucking stop.  Everything suffers under these conditions.  My empathic work.  My writing.  My magick.  It’s hard to trance into meditation and it’s hard to trance into ritual.  I’m incredibly frustrated and deep down I feel blinded by how much it hurts to just be.  It’s literally taking every ounce of energy I have to shut down the negative hell-voices in my head, to make myself breathe properly, move properly, function at least semi-normally.  I’m so tired, so emotionally drained and exhausted, every moment of every day just trying to walk along this path of life that I sleep more than I probably ought to.  And I work really hard to keep the depression from taking over.  It is a full time job.  It is a full time fight.  It is a full time hell.  So I employ a little army of help.  Spending time with friends, talking to friends on the phone, burning nice incense and frankincense and sage and palo santo, diffuser aromatherapy (lavender helps!), salt lamps and an aurora borealis machine…  I spend time slipping as gently as I can down that inner path in order to explore myself.  So many reflecting pools, clear water bright as a mirror…  My face within, caught up in the inner hell, twisted with emotional pain and worry and stress.  I see these images…  And my heart breaks for my Self, that part of me that is always me and always here and suffers so much through every kind of pain.  I’m the hot mess in the corner, the train wreck you happen upon, burning on the rails.  I am melting.  I need to save myself.  I don’t fucking know how.  I’m scared and I’m not afraid to admit that anymore.  I know what I want but I don’t understand why I want it.  It’s all killing me.
But here’s the thing.  Life is a bitch.  I knew it before this depressive cycle started.  I knew it before that.  I’ve known it for years.  I know how it affects me to let myself be cowed by it all.  So fuck that.  I’m not beaten and I won’t be beaten.  I hate myself, but I love the knowledge of myself.  I am self-aware and proud of it.  I WILL rise above this, yet again.  I am broken, battered bruised and all of that dumb shit, but I AM NOT WEAK.  I have strength in that self-awareness, in that pride, and in that drive to keep my head above water and strive for the fucking shore.  This is what it means to be strong.  This is what it means to be me.  If you have ever asked me what it’s like to have bipolar disorder and anxiety, this is what it feels like.  It feels like constantly having to face the truth within yourself and own up to it all.  It feels like the voice in your head that is supposed to be your own is trying to drive you into accepting the worst, but forcing yourself to keep striving for the best.  I am not the evil fucking hell-voice in my head.  I am not that nasty laugh or that mocking cry or that desperation.  I am NOT that voice and that voice is NOT me.
Yes I hate myself.  But I don’t hate my Self.  The reality of my Self is that it doesn’t match a single bit with the voice of my mental illness.  
So who am I?  A Pagan, a Witch, a loving friend and family member.  I am my own strength just by knowing I have more than the hell-voice tries to tell me.  I am determined to succeed in loving myself again, loving my life and loving the beauty of this world.  I am not my mental illness.  I have mental illness…  But it does not and will not ever have me.  I am a conqueror, a queen, a killer of  hateful thoughts, I slash back at the hell-voice when it slashes at me, I am the silent who is never truly silent, and I am the qualm of every manic thought.  I am the child of the Night and the Queen of the Night, too.  I am the gift I gave myself when I allowed the lotus to bloom.  I am the lotus itself, growing through the muck and the mud and striving in glimpses of the sunlight.  I have friends in Morrigan, who fights for me, and Ganesha, who holds me close to his belly and hugs me with his trunk and whispers encouragement in my needing ears, in Hekate, who reminds me that there can be no light without darkness, and in all of Nature, which roots me and holds me fast and takes every chance imaginable to remind me of who I am.  Checks and balances.  I’m grateful for them.  I need them.  Even if I AM strong, I need roots, I need a reminder of that strength.  The hell-voice does its best to erase that strength.  But I turn it around on the hell-voice and use the full force of my strength to erase its grating.  That takes a lot of energy.  It’s why I’m so damn tired all of the time.  But it’s also why I’m still alive.  It’s why I’m still walking this Earth and walking this path.
I am determined to save myself, at all costs, no matter what.  It’s never going to be easy and I’ll probably never be fully whole, but I am who I am, and I would rather be myself despite the bullshit in my head than pretend to be anything or anyone else.  If someone cannot accept me for who I am, as I am, then fuck them, because nobody will ever truly understand how I came to be the way I am, and let me tell you, if you can stand beside me in the middle of my trials, if you can be with me despite how crazy I can be and how crazy I can sound, if you can be loyal and be honest and be real and love me for who I am, then I can reciprocate in every dimension humanly possible.  I love others so much more than I love myself because I know what it’s like to lack that love.  It’s overcompensation, but it’s part of who I am.  I know I am difficult and complex but…  It’s me.  I have to keep moving along.  I have to keep walking.
This is how I save myself.

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The Itchhh

Tonight is a rare night that due to exegent circumstances, I cannot attend a show.
I cannot tell you how itchy and cranky this makes me.  I went to a show last night.  I’m going to a show tomorrow night.  But I can’t go tonight, so I’m feeling super odd and off.  I’m occupying myself with reading and research for the paranormal case I’m currently working on, but it still doesn’t quite help me.  Rock n’ roll, live music, the electricity of the whole affair, that is what grounds me and charges me and makes me feel alive.  It also just feels weird to not be roadtripping.  I love the driving, I love to drive in the dark.  I love the stars and the moon guiding me back home after midnight and seeing how far I can drive until the city lights disappear.  Little spells I leave behind me sometimes, if I feel called to do so.  Every time I go, I feel another crack inside me fill with music and with gold, and I feel my inner beauty returning little by little.  I miss it so when I can’t go…

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Esoteric Empathy by Raven Digitalis

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Esoteric Empathy: A Magickal & Metaphysical Guide to Emotional Sensitivity

This book is incredible.  I haven’t finished it completely, but I am spellbound by how extensively Digitalis describes different aspects of empathy and how much help it has been to me so far.  I recommend this book to ANYONE, not just Empaths, because even those who “do not have Empathy” ought to have the information within this book.  This book belongs on shelves everywhere.

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Call To Me

Call to me, music of the gods,
bringer of healing sound and rhythm fair
deepest of rivers thrum with your beat
as the rain adds to its depths
and a fresh layer of drumbeats beckon me
Call to me, muses of the gods,
beckon with stories old and new,
tell me many tales of romance and valiant courage
and vanquish that fear within me
so that I might reach deep within myself
and author the new generations of story and song
Call to me, voice of the gods,
as you root so deeply in the soil of the Universe
as you quiver beneath my feet in endless reams
I feel your resonance as it makes its way
inside of my soul, storms and all
I am grateful for your calm and for your calamity
Call to me, sight of the gods,
show me the things you hide from all others…
send me soaring above the spiderweb clouds
quest of vision awash in the auric space
allow me ample time to find my way…
guarantee my safe flight into the astral plane
the breath you gift to me felt keenly here…
Call to me, silence of the gods,
that I may hear your speech more keenly
and know the sounds of the mother intimiately
drop away the dross of the waketime world
hear nothing, see so very much better
in the gloaming of the dusky meadow
seeing only the glitter of the starlit moon
I see it in my dreams and silence pervades
within the circle in my astral grove…
Call to me, touch of the gods,
as the graze of your fingertips
reminds me to slow down and feel it all
and I’m grateful for the chance to rest
with divine hands resting as well
upon the bare skin of my shoulders
feel you in the sweet nighttime breeze
Call to me, soul of the gods,
your vibration begins to match my own now
resonating gold into the cracks of my heart
healing with the treasures of nature
warmth in the deepest of places
the hurt slowly leaves my heart
replaced by love for myself and all around me
Call to me, secrets of the gods
buried deep beneath Atlantis
in the cover of blackest night
your mysteries have beckoned me for years
I walk that sunken path, even broken
feeling the love of the earth
come up from the flats of my feet
reminding me of where my power originates
I am only borrowing it
I am a walking library book
I’ve been in the hands of too many
who do not appreciate my worth
but one day I will be returned
and loved.
Call to me, love of the gods
the heart of the Mother is mine as well
we are in step and in sync
and I feel you in each heartbeat
love swells in my heart
heals every broken heart and every hurt
and roots me in grounded soil.

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Will o’ the Wisp

I feel like I’m adrift again, but this feeling is not new, nor will it ever be new – and I’ve a feeling it won’t grow old, either.  There are certain states I find myself in that are extremely confusing even to me, even when deep down I understand them.  They come from nowhere – heightened states of anxiety paired with a deep depression I cannot shake and mood swings that somehow dance around the depression and anxiety.  So one moment I am laughing and the next I am crying.  And floating.  Floating in my mind.  I’m not quite rooted in my body and yet I cannot find my way out of the ether.  Sometimes I wake from such states and am alarmed because I am driving or doing something else I should pay close attention to.  Sometimes I can compare it to the state of trance, meditation-induced and fueled by incense and candlelight, because it has the same quality of sight and yet takes you so very far away from the reality you are supposed to be facing day to day.
My main problem when it comes to this little will o’ the wisp that I become in these states is that I literally shut out the world.  I forget to ground, I forget to meditate, I forget to read, to write, to work, to do everything I’m supposed to do in my life.  I am completely disconnected from my sensual, sexual side; I cannot think straight.  I feel so broken and disconnected that I feel almost completely hopeless.  And yet…  Some days…  Some nights…  I feel it deep in my bones…  That I am going to be all right.

Posted in Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Mental Illness, Rants & Raves | Leave a comment