Musings From The Rats In My Brain

  " Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me" -Emma Lazarus. I have long been a troubled soul. One tortured by natures unknown to even me, but yea i have tasted it. I have tasted what true freedom is, and how truly wonderful it is. We are often told what freedom is. freedom is when you get the keys to your first car, when you're handed a diploma from your college dean, or when your handed a hefty retirement payment from your now former employee. I argue, however, that none of that is freedom, none of it is true freedom.  Tonight, on the eleventh of May I was given an experience unlike what life is to a child. I had spent the day driving my grandmother back to her home in Gulfport after a nice, but tiring, Mother's Day weekend. I had gotten home with the intention on taking my good friend Cory door dashing(delivering food to people for a mod...

    Author's Note This was written shortly after I wrote Fool(see my earlier post.) I really forced myself to write this one in an attempt to cheer myself up, and it kind of worked? Surprisingly it's a decent poem despite the fact I forced myself to write it(which usually ends in disaster.) This one was published in my school's newspaper as well, fittingly on the last day for Seniors(which I was[am?]) and it sat right next to a shoutout for my "magnificent poems." --------------------------------------------------------------------------                                                                       For the Fool For the people who jump without thought.   No matter how much pain is wrought For the people who live without a master. No matter how much of it...

  Author's Note This is a very recent one, of which I think is one of my best. This one was published in my school's newspaper as well. I actually wrote this one entirely in my head on a drive home from my therapist's office and is about the girl mentioned in Fool and Letter 8(I told you she would come up a lot in my more modern work.) This one is really sad though, so I wouldn't blame you for skipping it. --------------------------------------------------------------------- On Mourning I mourn the fool who was forgotten I mourn the flower that never got to bloom I mourn the gifts never gotten I mourn the love brought to doom I mourn the fool left to rain Him and his sad drooping flower I Mourn the fool and all his pain Standing, waiting for the never-hour I mourn the words of love spoken I mourn the futility of his fight I mourn the heart crushed and broken The fool crying for his lost light I mourn the forsaken fool For the fool fallen for false love For the fool left...

Author's Note This one is probably my favorite poem I've written, this or either one you all haven't seen yet. This was something I wrote in a deeply disturbed headspace, one of those things that are written entirely by the Rats without my rational input. I wrote it after things ended poorly with the girl that was mentioned in Letter 8(its a whole thing) and was originally written on the back of a letter I gave to her, but I was able to rewrite it from memory, with some subtle tweaks of course. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Fool The fool of porcelain dances on a razor string He dances for a mob of rats They jeer and laugh at him All he will be is a fool to them. A light stops the dance The light is too bright; the fool shields his eyes The porcelain fool meets an angel Her razor binds slice her flesh The fool is awestruck The fool cannot think So the fool of porcelain dances The fool of porcelain performs of his own will Wings of gold...

Author's Note This is an old poem from 2024 that I wrote about a girl(not the one mentioned in Letter 8's note.) This one was published in my school's newspaper funny enough.  ---------------------------------------------------------------------   On  Dreams                             I wonder what it is like to be in someone's dream? To gaze into the deepest subconscious of a person. To see their fears. To see their desires People are always the most honest in their sleep. The subconscious tells what the conscious won’t. I wonder if I'm in her dreams.? I know she is in mine. Do I act differently in her dreams? Or am I the same? Would she want me in her dreams? Or would they be nightmares? Would she be happy if I were in her dreams? I wonder what happens in people’s dreams? I could learn so much more about them. Dreams are a wonder. How they tell the truth. How they reveal your own thoug...

Author's Note This one is another one of my favorites, this  time featuring my favorite characters I've ever written, I just find their dynamic and personalities so much fun to write, especially my little predator. I will say, this one is a bit more... explicit then most of my writings, so trigger warning for explicit violence, implied sex, and a general more mature vibe.  --------------------------------------------------------------------- Prey Someone is stalking my prey,  is the first rational thought that passes your mind after you started stalking tonight.  No one can have my prey.  You reason with yourself after you switch targets from prey to predator. He’s yours, this vulture can’t have him. No he can’t. Your prey turns a corner. The vulture turns with him, and you turn with the vulture. No one cares when the vulture is yanked into the alleyway. No one cares as the vulture learns why no one can have your prey.  No one cares about the vulture...