The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (good story books to read .txt) 📕

wire around my wrist starts peeling off my skin

I black out then wake up, I grab my wrist and in surprise

There was nothing to show that there was ever any wire

I run to the mirror to make sure it was a dream

Sweaty from the trauma, nothing is ever as it seems

My heart is still pounding from the fear and the stress

With the word Masochist still carved into my chest


Jaded.

I put the belt around my arm, and I pumped my fist. A chill covers my arm as the veins swell. "I'm only doing what everyone wants", is how I justify my actions. The needle isn't as sharp as I remember, until the cold needle breaks the skin with a sudden pop. As my eyes role back into my head and my body goes limp, my mind wonders into places that I can't bare to go without the courage injected into my system. The dream of dreams has compelled me to look inside my inner thoughts and marvel at the misguided awareness that all of us hold our convictions in. In this dream, I can see every thought's beginning and end. I can almost manipulate them in ways you only wish you could without the help of this cold needle. I can see the origin of my emotions. The place where hate boils and pride cowers in the darkest of corners. I am welcomed here by my darkest secrets and I have yet to feel the rejection from the truth. I have been here many times before. But this time, this self-inflicted state of mind has been enticed by truths beyond comprehension.

I want to tell you everything, I really do. I want you to know what the product of circumstances looks like, when viewed through the eyes of self-loathing. As pathetic as it sounds, I want you to take this trip with me. Lower your standards for once in your life, and allow me to guide you through the deepest and darkest secrets. You need to see what is in my mind, so you can appreciate what is in yours. Will you take this journey with me?


Father, forgive me...for I have sinned.

It's been 28 days since my last confession. I've sponsored sins, that to some may seem obsessive. I'm a watcher, a sniper, a bird's eye view. I'm your neighbor, your friend, and your conscience too. An observer of humanity and people at their worst. Wondering why we even pull over to watch the hearse. We put'em there, it evolution at it's best. Man kills man for taking the S off his chest. And the children watch, in horror at first. But they grow numb to the pain, and look for help in the church? Please…tell me that this isn't true. Yeah there's a God, but not the one created by you. You feed lies to your kids, like food at a homeless shelter. The truth is there, if you filter out all the bullshit. I'm sorry to be such skeptic. I've seen men in the church preach, then turn into the devil. I've read the good-book, and I've seen all the movies. I have to say your blue eyed Jesus, is your biggest delusion. Think Osama, when you picture Jesus, the same face and beard. A different message to believers, more defined and revered. You call it biscuit, I call it bread, the same words from the preacher. Apply your beliefs to your life, or you scared to be the teacher? "So many questions, huh…lets point the finger at you." Okay, but for what, you're in a game I can't lose. I'm the author to all this religious propaganda. You think your opinion matters when it's only my thoughts I'm throwing at you? I'm laughing at you now, you should see your face…scarred from a world that put you in your place. Who am I to be the one to try to read the future. I'm the past….and the past was yesterdays future. Did I lose, you? NO? Just try to keep up. I'm the old dog, looking to teach the young pup. Did you know that 1 out 3 women were raped? Molested by fathers and brothers, while mom was baking cakes? It's daunting, I know, but lets push a little farther. 1 out of 12 men admitted to being fondled. Just think about the ones who decided to said nothing. We could probably push that 12 all the way down to a 7. What about those people walking around your town. Who molested kids, but no one admitted it ever went down. I bet you know at least 1 person that was a victim. And if you're the priest I'm confessing to, better make it 50. It's been 28 days since my last confession. I've sponsored sins, that to some may seem obsessive.


Welcome to Reality

I had a dream last night that the grass was green and the sky was blue. White clouds gracefully floated by being pushed by the a wind that smelled like summer flowers. People smiled at me with only the intent of being nice, and for some reason, the bird's song is comforting to my ears. Then I woke up. And I realized that the grass isn't green and the sky isn't blue. Things that are....aren't anymore. The clouds are black and they don't gracefully slide across the sky, they are stationary and full of anger. There is no peace and there isn't anyone who cares. People do what they have to, to survive, and the only way they are able to look at themselves in the mirror....is because they think that today they did more good than bad.

I rolled out of bed this morning and slipped on the pants that I wore yesterday. I found a white T-shirt laying on a basket mixed with clean and dirty clothes. I grab a pack of cigarettes from of the top of the dresser and took one out. I put it on my lips and walked down the hall. My hair has a life of it's own and it's been 3 days since a razor has touched my face. I walk outside to grab the lighter I keep stashed in the mailbox, and I light that cigarette. Pulling that first hit, I inhale the smoke looking for that relaxing sensation to compensate the stale breath that is in my mouth. The sky, still dark from reality, has reminded me about the significance of today. Today is the day that my search begins. I'm looking for something, I'm not to sure what it is, but I'm looking.


?desufnoc

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Confession

Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it's been 28 years since my last confession. I grew up so innocent, what happened? I never wanted to become the monster that I am today. Maybe my childhood wasn't so innocent? Maybe I just chose to look at it that way. Me and my brother used to perform "smash and grabs" at a local neighborhood store. I was only 6! We then would sell the stuff on the playground. We used to come home to an empty apartment. Mom (Mona), or the asshole we called Big Robert, were hardly there. Which was good! At least there would be a little time before he would make us fight each other, while his friends would take bets. I loved my brother, but when it's you against him....the loser gets punched in the face by all the people watching, you tend to set love aside. He would always let me win anyways, he was only 8! Sometimes Robert would point out some innocent kid in the project parking lot, and make me and my brother rob him....or at least fight him. And sometimes, that innocent victim was in his 20's. Lord forbid we lose! You lose, you don't come home! You sleep outside under the stoop, hoping it wasn't a cold night. I was only 6! Sometimes the TV wouldn't pick up channels...that's life right? Not in my house! That's my fault! Now I'd have to stand holding the rabbit ear antenna, and if there was any static because I wasn't strong enough to hold it up...then my brother got a lashing across the bottom of his feet, with a switch of some sort...usually pine. He was only 8! He remembers more than me! He holds more anger than I thought possible. I chose to forget, he chose to take the fight back to him. What I do remember, angers me so much that I still get tears in my eyes. I promised that I would be the last thing Robert saw before I closed his eyes for good. I still keep that thought...in the back of my mind. Robert and my mom, are what they make morbid movies about these days. I'm the one that will never tell you what happened, because I'd rather take this to my grave. But Father, I can't keep this up. I can't keep hiding my past. My kids don't need to know what bloodline they hold, but they need to know that I'm a soldier. There is nothing they can go through, that I haven't experienced. Forgive me father, for I have sinned!


Seasons Change

Morning coffee has always been the way I'd wake up. I'd pour my cup and look out the window above the sink, wondering if the sun's warmth on my face was precursor to the way the day should go. Fresh snow covered the ground and has yet to be interrupted by the feet of children, or the shovels of the hurrying neighbors. There is just something special about the way the sun dances on the surface of the snow. It's warm light seems to have no affect on the freshly powdered ground. The trees have traded their rustling leaves for the barren limbs that only make the worst of howling noises and are inhabited by the scavaging crows, but there is still something beautiful about the way the snow covers them. The way the sun easily slips through the trees that once hid it's morning light, reminds us of the way we should be...resilient, powerful, and confident. Of course, the snow only last for a season, but the sun....the sun is forever. Sometimes it seems overpowered by circumstance, but in reality it's still there. It will usually be the one thing that we are trying to block while we focus on the snow. As I sip my coffee, I smile, knowing that the bitter cold will soon pass. I feel that there is still a need to enjoy the snow