They are ending
The wasted years
Some good bad memories
In the ways
Of after shock.
Little boy
Overcrowded
Sleeping away
On a set of pills.
I remember those days, drinking booze with my father in a filthy kitchen. I wasn´t sopose to drink ´couse of the pills, but that is not sopose to mather when the pain in you chest ask you to be buried alive, when you are only fifteen.
My father´s lost glassy eyes watching the ceeling. - What´s wrong dad? Are you ok? – I used to ask him. Me, a school drop out full of risperidone and trihexyphenidyl who wanted to kill and get killed. I remember him saying with effort that he was all right, drinking again trying to aboid conversation. Then there was the rest of the day, locked in my room, trying to listen to the radio, trying to read “Globalization and it´s Discontents” while my eyes started to drop out until I fell into a living dead state. I coudn´t even watch tv, couse I coudnt open my eyes, I tried but i was allways tired. My arms they ussually ended up numb. And that was a bad thing ok, but I didn´t complain, that was better than the other feelings, I remember something like a knife opening my chest, stabbing my neck once and again. A horrible pain, and I coudnt stop crying I just coudnt, and nobody knew what to do with me, a fourteen year old boy suddenly full of hate and pain who just coudnt even speak. I just needed to die, to die, to kil, to kill and to die. I hated everybody, I coudn´t feel any love, just obsession and hate. The world was a reservoir full of assholes who deserve to be killed, they had everything all right to then, and I was the good one, the victim, paralized to death. Pill after pill, shrink after shrink they told me I needed to be locked out of society, they did that to everybody, they still do it, is there bussiness and it works.
We got really poor at the time, couse my father didn´t have a steady job and me, a really sick voy a guess, decided to live with him. All the walls of the kitchen had big stains of water couse when it rained it was allmost like it was rainning inside, all the ceeling was broken and no one was able to fix it or to pay somebody who could do it. There was only beer, cheap gin and delivered pizza in the freezer, nothing else. The house was falling apart, going into a fast decadence and my father an I, we were just sick witnesses of that.
It was kind of courious I guess, or maybe a little obvious too. But the goverment, the country, was colapsing the same way we were. A few days earlier over a houndred people were killed in the streets, the police was ordered to suppress everybody couse of the state of siege and lots of people were trying to bring down the goverment taking it to the streets. It finnaly happened. But that´s another story.
The wasted years
Some good bad memories
In the ways
Of after shock.
Little boy
Overcrowded
Sleeping away
On a set of pills.
I remember those days, drinking booze with my father in a filthy kitchen. I wasn´t sopose to drink ´couse of the pills, but that is not sopose to mather when the pain in you chest ask you to be buried alive, when you are only fifteen.
My father´s lost glassy eyes watching the ceeling. - What´s wrong dad? Are you ok? – I used to ask him. Me, a school drop out full of risperidone and trihexyphenidyl who wanted to kill and get killed. I remember him saying with effort that he was all right, drinking again trying to aboid conversation. Then there was the rest of the day, locked in my room, trying to listen to the radio, trying to read “Globalization and it´s Discontents” while my eyes started to drop out until I fell into a living dead state. I coudn´t even watch tv, couse I coudnt open my eyes, I tried but i was allways tired. My arms they ussually ended up numb. And that was a bad thing ok, but I didn´t complain, that was better than the other feelings, I remember something like a knife opening my chest, stabbing my neck once and again. A horrible pain, and I coudnt stop crying I just coudnt, and nobody knew what to do with me, a fourteen year old boy suddenly full of hate and pain who just coudnt even speak. I just needed to die, to die, to kil, to kill and to die. I hated everybody, I coudn´t feel any love, just obsession and hate. The world was a reservoir full of assholes who deserve to be killed, they had everything all right to then, and I was the good one, the victim, paralized to death. Pill after pill, shrink after shrink they told me I needed to be locked out of society, they did that to everybody, they still do it, is there bussiness and it works.
We got really poor at the time, couse my father didn´t have a steady job and me, a really sick voy a guess, decided to live with him. All the walls of the kitchen had big stains of water couse when it rained it was allmost like it was rainning inside, all the ceeling was broken and no one was able to fix it or to pay somebody who could do it. There was only beer, cheap gin and delivered pizza in the freezer, nothing else. The house was falling apart, going into a fast decadence and my father an I, we were just sick witnesses of that.
It was kind of courious I guess, or maybe a little obvious too. But the goverment, the country, was colapsing the same way we were. A few days earlier over a houndred people were killed in the streets, the police was ordered to suppress everybody couse of the state of siege and lots of people were trying to bring down the goverment taking it to the streets. It finnaly happened. But that´s another story.
