Horror Author
The earliest memory I have
Is not a happy one
I was four
Somewhere in Ohio
My sisters were
Eight and ten
We three sat watching
Our parents arguing and fighting
It got violent
I started anger management counseling
When I was six because
A kid tried to help me put away a puzzle
I told him no, but he kept helping
I picked up a chair and hit him
I had to learn
At an early age
Not to let my temper control me
Now it takes a lot to make me angry
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
another day of humility
another day of horrible pain
the only thing that keeps me calm
is the thought of stabbing my palm
do you know how it feels
to live in misery
i can’t sleep anymore
it’s the thought of being alone
i have no one here with me
i can’t live with the insecurity
all i ever feel is pain
i can’t make it go away
i dream of feeling loved
but when it comes i try to run
i try to show myself to you
while i hide from all of you
it does no good to pray
Jesus laughs and walks away
my worst fear has come true
i’m alone and i hide from you
no more pain
please no more pain
just take it all away
|i cannot feel anymore
my body lies here on the floor
the bullet hole inside my head
took me down and struck me dead
none of you shall ever know
not until it’s a TV show
at least, i don’t hope so
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
Men Are Also Sexually Harassed
Women think
Because I’m a man
I don’t know
What it’s like
To be harassed
I worked at
A gay bar
For five years
I’ve been
Groped and rubbed
By men and women
One drunk idiot
He walked up to me
And said
“I just want to fuck you so bad”
I ignored him
He cried
All my time there
The only people
Attracted to me
Were either drunk
Or on cocaine
I still feel
Like unwanted
Garbage
The Bluest Eye
I’m not handsome
My body is furry
I’m not what they call
“Man Pretty”
I don’t have abs
But I don’t have
The “Dad Bod”
I don’t have money
Or a nice car
My eyes are
The color of shit
My glasses make them
Look too large
My hair is thinning
And already turning gray
People like my beard
But that’s all
Maybe they’d think
I was attractive
If my eyes
Were blue
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 