CAUTION

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Hello to my cautious fallen angels! It’s been a while since I last checked in. I tend to write poetry and short stories, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s Mother’s Day and the sadness wrecks havoc once again. I was an unusual child. My mother was afraid of me. She called me “the sick boy.” I spoke of death, misery, and hopelessness around the time my parents were divorced, and also during the time I began to get bullied in school. Then, trauma ensued and I became catatonic from the age of 10 to 18. I dressed in gothic garments, cut myself regularly, and tried to commit suicide whenever I was bored so she could keep me entertained. I blamed her for the loss of my innocence even though she didn’t do it directly.

I used to have sex with gangsters for drugs and pickpocket strangers on the streets to survive. My mother was a whore, and there was never food in the house. I went in and out of psych wards, residentials, group homes, and state hospitals. I got expelled from four different high schools before I finally graduated.

By then, my mother no longer bothered visiting me, let alone keeping me entertained. She gave up on me. I am the “Jason Todd”* of her four children.

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*Jason Todd was the second Robin after Dick Grayson. He was murdered by The Joker. Then, he was resurrected by the use of Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit. Jason Todd became a villain called The Red Hood.

Now I am a grown man. And every Mother’s Day that comes and goes relinquishes the mental bind I constructed to keep these horrid memories at bay.

I am socially rejected by almost every social group dynamic I have come across throughout the years. I am guarded and I hardly let anyone in. I portray this dark persona but I believe myself to be very gentle and kind. I must be cautious at all times. It’s days like today that never let me forget why I always exercise CAUTION.

Well, just because I hate Mother’s Day due to association by my own life’s experience, it doesn’t mean you feel the same way. At that note, I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day!

Feel free to check my latest book, a book of poetry called Trials and Tribulations! http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B018ZR0IVA/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1460319936&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&keywords=trials+and+tribulations+sufian

#TBH

Hello to my reclusive fallen angels! It seems I’m always chastised for being the only one whose honest. I’m infatuated with him. I don’t know him that well yet to have legitimate feelings but I’m aware of a few things about him that aren’t bad at all. He’s caring, artistic, funny, smart, and he’s one of the most beautiful men I have ever known. He enjoys playing video games and he knows his way around cosmetics. The thing is that I was a DCF kid. My childhood composed of trauma and abuse which led me to growing so accustomed to The System that I never learned the social skills needed to interact with Normies (people who were never in The System and is sane enough to appear normal even if they’re not). I believe that I never fully adapted to the real world; I never successfully transitioned from a hospital ambience to the community setting. This theory would definitely explain why I’m so socially awkward. I have a habit of making people feel uncomfortable and actually taking pleasure in it. You see, in psych wards, talking about depression, suicide, rape, and the like were topics of conversation. We made humor out of it because they were the only things to define our lives. It’s why I have a very dark, warped sense of humor. I know it’s hard to take me seriously but I use humor as a coping/defense mechanism. If I stop laughing, I’ll fall apart. It’s why I feel all alone in the world. I know I talk about loneliness a lot but it’s my only reality. I don’t know how to allow my crush to take me seriously; that I’m not a joke and that I’m not only interested in sex. I didn’t think he was into me until I found out he volunteered to do my makeup for the drag show I spoke of in my post, Drama Infestation. I don’t know with him. He’s wishy-washy. I don’t want to put my hopes up too high but I can’t wait to see if our O’s will become X’s soon. I’m not afraid to be honest. Maybe at least one of my fallen angels will read this and muster up the courage to be honest too. Have a wonderful day! Over and out.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

Prior To The Holy Rite

Cool wind sways
Through an opportunity,
Silence shrieks the truth,
A sigh melts my lips’ curvature,
Abrupt escape
From trauma’s precipice,
Safe return from a nightmare deferred,
Darkest before
The penultimate interim to Him

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

One Bad Day

I sat confined within the metal bars compressing me to a condensed version of an ambivalent world. Psychologist-infested daily routines didn’t always comprise my life’s entirety. It only took one bad day to rid me of my innocence forever.
Shadows spilled underneath my cot, behind the rusted toilet several paces away, and they ran away from the fluorescent lights twitching out in the corridor.
Red eyes glowed at night to accompany the darkness I fed earnestly throughout the day. It was an effective way to lose weight.
Years passed and so has three in-mates that took the pleasure of being my roommate. It came to the point where my past branched off into infinite alternate realities. That happens when you reach a certain age. Memories evolve into better or worse things depending on your mood.
I haven’t been outside since I moved in. The normies in their hospital scrubs always shut out the outside because I don’t deserve it anymore. All the other Malvolos lost their rights to freedom too, they kid around with me.
At a certain time of day, the leader of the normies announce from the walls that the lights must go out. We retreat back into our catacombs while being driven out of the community room like cattle.
I don’t bother talking to the other outsiders because I sleep alone regardless. Nothing new happened since The Assault. So I laid in the dark letting the last remnants of my eluded past reframe my dreams once more.
The Sun always radiates as bright as I remember. Maybe it was a tad bit brighter back then. The birds chirp as they perch themselves onto the trees my mother constantly refused to cut down. Her baby blue car is warming up in the driveway. My older brother (always was taller than me) sits in the front seat while my mother says her goodbyes to my stepdad. She is plotting against me with him. Then she glances at me, massaging her back and leaning on her scepter, and asks me if I’m positively sure if I want to stay at home instead of going with them to the local supermarket. I assure her that grocery shopping with her was as boring as school.
Then suddenly it’s nighttime and I skip forward past the awkward stage of puberty into the fathoms of adulthood. I’m closing up shop. Putting away spare boxes into the complacent shelves. I walk up to the entryway door to transform the “come on in, we’re open” sign to the “sorry, we’re closed” sign. But there’s this really sexy twink knocking softly on the glass. I yell out that we’re closed but he insisted on coming in to talk to me. He wants me to do it to him, I’m positive.
So the car drives itself away like fate so anxiously wanting to lay down its foundation. I give a quick smile to my stepdad just to be polite before going into my room to play some videogames. But that smile I flash at him is a green light for him to pursue me.
I lead him to my office in the basement where I let the cobwebs materialize out of thin air. The young man looks so happy with his manila folder (most likely holding his resume) gently against his chest. He says he heard a lot about me from the press and assures me that he wants nothing more than to work for me.
I just want to go home. But he sits down across from me. He unzips his white jacket, beckoning me to admire his physique. Then he carefully hangs his hoodie on my coat rack. His shirt is a v-neck. The young man has tempting-looking chest hair. It is more than obvious that he yearns for my touch.
He knocks on my door and told me to help him clean up the house to surprise my mother when she gets home. I reply if he pays me money, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. My stepdad giggles playfully as he barges into my room and unplugs my game console. That is the last straw. He answers my unexisting plea to take away my virginity. It sucks cus the least he can do is pay me afterwards but sometimes he doesn’t.
I get up soon after the young man sat down to lock my office door for privacy from my employees who went to their respective homes an hour before. I tell him that I’m not currently hiring at this point in time but I can reconsider if he admits he’ll do anything if I pay him to do it. I stole his smile. A scared expression is left behind on his face while I tear his smile off his porcelain face.
Masturbation had lost its fun since I no longer had an audience. The buzzing of the night light kept me up all night long. I didn’t sleep a wink. I crack myself up sometimes as my laughter fills the empty void. Just when I think I lost my mind entirely, I lose it a little bit more. I can no longer plant this seed anywhere other than my bedsheets. My bed wanted me to cultivate this undead garden, hardening along with the red eyes across the room reminding me that I had an audience after all. A sexy doctor peeked into my room, beckoning me to take his smile away from him too.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

Boy Toy

The rapist led me to my therapist,
He said I’m beyond repair,
For me to take these pills,
Sedate the roots of my despair,

Men will be the death of me,
He said I’m incomplete,
For me to sabotage myself,
Abandon flout sanity,

Prior trauma soaked ’til soggy,
He said I’m better off,
For me to disown hope,
And leave my life to chance aloft,

Even benign recollection,
He said that love dies,
For me to toss my halo,
Downgrade to a carnival prize,

Negligence is winning the lottery,
He said it beats abuse,
For me to undeceive,
Mediocre sex ties my noose,

Patriarchy exists no more,
He likes to walk away,
For me to learn my lesson,
Mourning to morning night to day,

Married guys their spouse a nuisance,
He wants a change of pace,
For me his younger model,
Now he wants to redeem his space,

I’m just someone men take frustration on,
He said it’s our little secret,
For me to keep it shut,
And leave it open when he needs it

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

To let him down gently

Hello to my fallen angels! As a child, I was weak, naive, innocent, vulnerable, and defenseless. I had always been on the receiving end of heartbreak, trauma, abuse, neglect, and disownment. Now that I am grown, I realize just how it feels to inflict pain on others. The tormented becomes the tormentor. I find myself saying things to people that makes them instantly suicidal. A summary of my psychoanalysis of them. Just like the things my ex used to say to me. My ex was psychic and he said that if I knew my future, I would lose my mind and end up in an asylum for the rest of my life. He also said that after two years of knowing each other, he only let me through the side door. He never intended on giving all of himself to me ever. I felt suicidal in a heartbeat. Now there’s this new guy I am talking to that I am no longer interested in. Now I find myself having to end something that will hurt someone the same way my ex hurt me. I already constructed a psychoanalysis of the new guy and if I really wanted to, I could easily destroy him with my words as well. But I would never inflict the amount of pain my ex inflicted on me once upon a time. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I haven’t really been 100% honest with the new guy. In a nutshell, he lives with his mother, four years older than me, no savings, no car, no friends, no sense of independence, a virgin, and he has the mentality of a female. Which turns me off quite so. Thats a summary. I could put more on this post but nothing good will come out of that. Subconsciously, my ex is my idol, my dark side that I find very sexy yet terrifying at the same time. Why Harley Quinn stays with Joker no matter how much he abuses her? Or why do women stay with abusive men when everyone knows there are ways to get out? It’s because there’s this sick, twisted side of people like me that enjoy being miserable, temperamental, argumentative, and submissive. So now three days straight, the new guy has been texting me hysterical cus I’m no longer replying to my texts. The same reason waiting for my ex’s call was a kind of maddening torture. I don’t know how to let him down gently the same way my ex didn’t even bother doing. I am in a better place in my life than I have ever been. I live alone with a built up savings account for I am very ambitious. I pay my own bills and I been through so much hardship that I am resilient, apathetic, and guarded. Nothing really phases me anymore. Some things that help me cope with a broken heart (as an empath) are practicing daily on grounding, centering, and shielding. The reason I care about letting this new guy down gently is because I want to be a better person my ex was. To be honest, if I never got my heart butchered by my ex’s pink knife, I wouldn’t give a damn about being nice. But my former flame changed the way I see the world. I could become him or forever oppose him. I choose the latter. For if my ex is truly evil, and I am a good soul, then by definition, our forces will forever clash. Not literally, metaphorically. So my good act will be to let the new guy down gently. But how I do that when I’m so used to enjoying hurting people? I’m asking you, my fallen angels, is there a good way to break things off with someone? If so, how? A victim-to-bully-to-redeemed-soul. Have a wonderful day! Over and out.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! 🙂