Tuesday, March 8, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Survival

It has become just about survival, existing, not truly living, my irritation and anger grow all the time, I hate this fucking world, I am fucking bored and restless.  My hands shake in annoyance and irritation and anger, this fucking shit hole I live in irritates me to no end, I hate .this fucking place. The people here are assholes, noisy and disruptive, is it to much to ask for quiet and silence from these fucking idiots who make noise and bang shit around in a clamor?  I do not like them, they are filthy, stupid children in the bodies of adults, their immaturity is annoying.   I seek only quiet and solitude and to be left alone, I do not like people very much.  I see others who are happier than me, and I retreat into envy and solitude.  I am not a happy person, and I am totally alone, I prefer it that way, just surviving, no children or wife to be fed or cared for, just me to feed and be responsible to and for.   I do not want a family, they would be a burden on the body and mind of a schizophrenic, that situation would be a mess,  The stress would cause constant, ongoing, never ending mental collapses, both psychotic and in mood.  I am typing this in anger, fear and depression, I do not know what to do other than sticking to my schedule, it is all that I have  now, just following the plan and surviving.

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