I can barely see my jotted down words on this lined peice of paper. I write this. As the ink flows, my words unleash to you. All of you. What I'm feeling is. indescribable. I dont know what it is. No matter how hard I try to place it out of a million thoughts turning in my mind, I fucking can't. I -can't-. My heart feels like it's straining. thump. thump. Grasping for that last ounce of energy just to get this out and to beat again. My salty eyes beg to be quenched. I sit and stare. Why can't I say what I really feel? I am the confused, disgusted with human nature. Men who see the young as a piece of bloody, untouched meat and defile the pure with their fucking vile touch and foul sweatbeads bleeding out of every pour, only to drop on the brow and be wiped away, unaccounted for. Somebody shoot. I wouldn't stop you. That is what I hate. THe foul eagerness to ruin, deplete...and I wouldn't stop the bullet. And that feels bad. I'v never been touched personaly, but my mother was..and I see she still suffers from it. And I feel it. Why. I ask. Why. And the feeling hides so deep in me I coax it out like a dog. I'm pulling out hair from my throat and it never ends. I want. It out. I'm finding ways to get this out. I'm really a happy person, but tonight it's not the same. This saddness that clenchs my throat and wont let go, where did IT come from. I fucking hate my father. Did it come from him? I block him out. I rarely think of him. The way I feel for him is how I feel ...tonight. It creeps up on you and hits you in the face. Gay ass muther fucker. That's what He is. I picture my mother screaming. Burning her. Lieing to her. -Lieing to himself.- His candy coated lies with poison inside. "Go ahead. Drink up." The church's lies. Thats all it was. One fucking big hollow lie. I'm sick of lies that's what. And I'm sick of feeling this way. Tomorrow I'll be fine. I'll wait for a new day and relinquish this feeling and write what is ..or may not be why.