Ode to my parents…

Some people have awful ways of thinking about things.

I am not a coward, I say it like it is, in certain matters…
I drop metaphors for the ones I cannot say out loud….

Don’t give people axes to grind.

Nobody respects a coward.

Sometimes you cannot believe somebody is the same person that you used to know.

If you lived life as a coward, you might as well die like a man.

Sometimes being a coward can cost us more than we could ever imagine.

Dark, gothic, anti-religious, iconoclastic poetry. The disgust towards Catholicism in particular.

This one is about a loved-one who has never been happy with himself in the world, and so turned to Christianity as a defense-mechanism and a place to hide within himself, which is a common, self-empowering mistake for people in sick states of mind to pitifully do out of desperation. He uses his faith not only to justify and sanction his illness (what Nietzsche would call his decadence), but uses it also as a weapon. A weapon to spread his disease, a weapon against the world which he is physiologically abortive in, against the flesh which he cannot gratify, and even against the joy of laughter if it is from mockery REMOTELY to do with sexuality! He became a REAL party-pooper. Too bad, so sad; one more person willingly victimized at the depraved hands of Christianity and all the conscience-rape it has to offer a self-loathing, ascetic masochist. Not to mention the reward-aspect of it, which offers so much “divine” gratitude to someone UNABLE to grant himself anything – but denial.