Naturally Selected

Nothing I am

Something I'll be

Materialized

Rejected

Biologically Targeted

Naturally selected

Failure-oriented

The Good Gene

Miscalculation

The Bad Gene

Initiation

Tracked by Fate

Tricked by Love

Loved by hate

A Picasso Creation

Artistically Misshapen

Amorphous

Dead on Arrival

Unfit for survival

Curious, Envious, Hideous

Sky Tower

                                                        







SKY TOWER

My mind is locked up here.

Like a rapist’s throbbing member,

I swallowed the key that could release me,

And repressed this memory for personal security.

She is not a human brain. She’s not. She’s my little abductor.

And she has been kidnapping little pieces of you

and nailing their naked bodies deep inside these walls.

This place is not a murder scene. I have been fucking these children.

Their whimpers are like lullabies. Their resistance is a good fight.

I let them slide down at their own pace.

With permission to leave when hope leaves their face.

Just don’t ever feel pity over broken bodies and ripped holes.

Believe me, these roaches find their way out somehow.

And when they do, they look just like you.

Insects enslaved by the flowers,

Forever following the instinctual rhythm to consume.

But I raised them as the fuckers of your world.

And if I catch them, I bury them alive, screaming in their coffins.

I have to abort every fetus of you still growing here in Sky Tower.

Every childish memory of you needs to be fucked, tortured, and dead!

Blue Eyes, Blond Hair

Blue Eyes, Blond Hair

Blue eyed, Blond hair

Mistake.

She shouldn’t have spread her legs.

Look what sprung out of my head.

Now were slaves to the corporation.

We begin losing when we’re born.

I am just a ghost inside the skeleton.

My failures in life are Jesus’s porn.

Blue eyed, Blond hair.

Waste.

He should have came upon her belly.

Saved a little embarrassment.

I’m living as your little reminder

That making kids won’t make a family.

You were lost. He tore you down.

How the fuck is birthing me gonna make you found.

Blue eyed, Blond hair.

Fate.

You should have let it not digest.

Born with the perfect stomach.

I should not be here right now.

I should be sleeping six feet down.

I never chose to compete.

He’s the one you wanted.

I’m the black sheep.

Sex is like a game of rushing roulette.

You can always pull the trigger, but never know what you’ll get.

Deep Journal Entry 2/2/2016

Ever since I was born I had a hatred in my heart, not sure what for, but it burned. I’ve had hatred for so many things in my life: humanity and myself. As an innocent child with blue eyes, I could never have prepared myself for the true reality of it all. The adults that spoke down to me with a soft voice back then are now the same ones trying to rape me: physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually in adulthood. I wish I was naive and unaware again. But hate, I only hated myself because I thought I was a curse from God sent here to suffer for humanity. But I don’t think I’m a truly hateful person or hoping that it doesn’t identify who I am or how you see me. This hatred is reserved for humanity as a whole. It won’t let me live the way that I would like to. When I go to a mall, for example, I just see dishonest people in the middle aisles trying to sell their problems to me. I look at them and see business numbers and quotas behind their kind demeanor and smiles; I see corporate america slashing at their backs with cracking whips. When I drive down the road and see cars pulling up at the local loan establishment, all I can see is Satan. He is there, dipping his foot in the stream of this person’s life and poisoning their family’s water supply. When I’m in a busy Walmart parking lot on Sunday, right before church hours, a woman stops traffic to walk toward my vehicle, I say to myself, why is natural selection working so slowly? Not just for her, but for me, one who harbors hatred in his heart.
If I ever let you see with my eyes and feel with my heart, you would run away screaming. Every new day is a job for me, I wake up and battle with myself. I battle my counterproductive brain and all it won’t let me forget. You, him, her. It doesn’t stop. A flickering slideshow of dead memories. The only time I am truly happy is when I’m around him and my dog. Many of my family are dealing with their own versions of hell. They cannot see me through the clearing of the flames. When it rains I am happy, it calms everything down. Helps me forget a little. When a lightning storm rumbles the ground outside it matches the destruction in my heart, sounding as if its destroying the earth around me. And here I am, full-circle, back to the hatred that I was born with - that hatred inside my heart.
- Brandon Defiance