I really wish I could write something but I can't. I have so much to write, but to be honest, I can't put it down on ink and paper.
My poet's wound has closed, apparently (Not really a good thing)
So, to pass time, I'll finish the Daredevil series and hit you with a double review of Daredevil and Age of Ultron.
Yeah. I can't write right now.

F***

JustAnotheRandomGuy

Giving up

There's two kinds of people
Some who give you up
And some who can say they tried
The others just get on their with their own lives,
While I tear my heart open
And then sew myself shut, 
The weakness being,
That I care too much
But my scars remind me,
My past is real
I tear my heart open
Just to feel
You tied this insane soul,
Bound him to a wall,
In his chest you bored a hole,
Tonight is his last stand.

Forgotten you have, an old friend.
Left without a, proper goodbye.
What's the last time,
You looked me in the eye?
The last time that you, spoke to me in real life?
But I tear my heart open
And then sew myself shut, 
The weakness being,
That I care too much
But my scars remind me,
My past is real
I tear my heart open
Just to feel
You tied this insane soul,
Bound him to a wall,
In his chest you bored a hole,
Tonight is his last stand.

Forgetting all this rhyming bullshit, I have two things to say- One, I'm not uploading my posts to indiblogger cause I'm infrequent and this writing is shit.
And you need feelings to write. Writing is expression.
Does this look like a man who has feelings?
Two, I feel really bad.
NOTHING I DO IS EVER RIGHT!
C'mon guys. And really, I have lost meaning.
I'm not making anybody else happy, neither am I happy myself, neither would anybody be happier seeing me alive.
Oops.
People have forgotten me. I'm not kidding. People I used to call best friends don't have the nerve to talk to me in class, but have enough to b**** behind my back.
Great. I don't mind. What I do is that you fake it all with me.
And there is one person indeed who has totally forgotten me.
Aah. No matter. After all, I have no right to speak to royalty, do I?
Talk to you when the air stops getting so thin up there, Blue.
Oops. Public name calling.

No, I'm not even gonna f***ing give a logout message

JustAnotheRandomGuy

 

Jack.

I am Jack.
I am Jack's hands, shaking all the time, never been able to hold anything in my hands, not my life, the people I care for, my job, my family. I've been trembling from years of substance abuse. All these hands can grasp is a bottle. Or a pill. Pills are nice.
I am Jack's bones. Broken from fights, countless of them in bars, brittle from inadequate exposure to daylight.
But what use are bones when there is nothing left to protect?
I am Jack's brain. Never being able to concentrate on a single thing. I'm broken. Migraines keep coming and going, like an old friend,
I am Jack's heart. I pump in and out his fatigued blood, but the fatigue I cannot banish.
Life I cannot support. A broken heart am I.
I am Jack's liver. For years I have been supporting him. I have grown old and weary through years of alcohol being pumped through me.
Booze-fuelled drunkenness does not hide the pain, we found out. 
I am Jack's tired soul. I have been broken. I have been battered. Been shattered, been shaken. I am his complete lack of surprise. I am his vengeance which is directed at himself. I am Jack's cold sweat.
I am Jack's chair. Many a night he sat upon me and completed his tasks. It took him so long to understand the final task which needed to be done.
I am Jack's rope. Tonight Jack is freed.

(Thumbs up if you got the references)

Jack is a weird name.

JustAnotheRandomGuy

I hab

Release The Savage

Listen to me.
You've got to listen to me.
Why do you do what you do? Your job? Your life? Carry on through pain? Enjoy life as you 'think' it should be?
You do realize that happiness is just an emotion? A chemical. Rather, something that is FOOLING you into thinking you feel good? So why do we do what we do? We talk about art, morals, values and stuff, but what do we really care about? What is it that we are looking out for in the end?
We're fools dancing on a burning ship. We're assholes. We're ant sized idiots who don't matter at all. After all, what good will it do when you blow up the world? Or save it from blowing up? Happiness? People say strive for it. But what do you do, your 'happiness' is just a simple drug.
A drug that you are addicted to.
A drug that we keep striving for.
Your happiness is JUST a drug your body gives in exchange for its survival and maybe generation of more offspring. 
Your body is a traitor. It makes you cry. It makes you thirst for the drug that is happiness?
So what do you do? I'm baffled. I guess there is nothing much to do. Do whatever you wanna do, really. Who cares if you just got fired from your job? You lost the love of your life? You are ashamed in front of your family? It's just your body giving you the false illusion, in the end.
Do whatever you wanna do. Run away. Fall back on the primal emotion of hunger, hunger for yourself.
For once, block out all the signals that your DNA dictates you to do.
For once, be the beast you need to be. The beast that knows only himself. Lose your conscience.
For once.

Release The Savage.

See ya later.

JustAnotheRandomGuy

Scribble

Waking up, at the end of a bad dream
Only to realize it could be true.
Shaking my head, about to scream,
Then to realize it's of no use.

After being broken so many times,
I wonder if I have the strength to go on.
Their words seem like Hippocratic crimes
And I begin to slow down.

So scribble me out,
Mistakes erased,
Forgotten,
Life goes on
Without me

Runnin' down a dream

Never would come to me.

JustAnotheRandomGuy

 

Wrecked

So
Do you live?
Do you die?
Do you bleed ?
For the fantasy 
In your mind?
I'm wrecked,
Wandering hopelessly.
Searching for a drug.
Thoughts, they're
Poisoned from the inside.
I cannot see,
Corrupted,
I have been. 

Vox Populi

JustAnotheRandomGuy

The Reason For These Scars

The reason for my scars
She's out there in the stars
And I'm trying to breathe right here on mars
But not getting anywhere

He's the truth of my life
The raising of this knife
The reason for my strife
But he's never there

I need to know my fate
I've been waiting for a change
Searching in my range
All hopeless

All I need is a sign
I've worshipped enough of your shrine
Put an end to the cryin'
And tell me

Cause this steed can go alone
The road still has space for two
I don't need another drone
With or without you
I'll be fine

Does she not care, or does she not hear?

Does he not get it, that I don't fear?

Cause I'd cross those stars

Fade away my scars

To be with you?

Then why am I still one?

And not two?

I CANNOT GO BACK TO BEING CHEESY I'M TOO EMO UARGH

JustAnotheRandomGuy