the freak



A chrysalis corrupted,
Mutated D.N.A.
Its stasis interrupted,
A freak or so they say
With skeletal deformities,
And a skull that’s seldom shown
Rags, hats, hoods, accessories,
Drape over fragile bones


I’ve never lied, I don’t know how to and I’ve never understood the reasoning behind it, but there are some things that are just too hard to talk about easily, but perhaps one day. The reason I may sound a little cryptic is that there is one thing in my life that causes people to judge me so unfairly, that it chips a little bit of my soul away every time I see people staring at me in public, for either they assume I’m a junkie because of the darkened flesh below my eyes, – but that’s the fault of my medications, not the amphetamines, – or, if I go out without something covering my battle scarred skull, people immediately assume,… well I don’t know what their thinking, I can just tell by their expressions it’s something I don’t want to hear…

Believe me, just be grateful if you have a face and skull that doesn’t draw unwarranted attention, for it’s the most awful feeling in the world knowing people are judging you just because you look a little different…

People see you as easy prey, they immediately assume you’re inferior to them, and they will use your misfortune to draw the attention of others away from their own personal faults, it’s awful, truly awful, but I’ve lived with it ever since I became bald, and that was 25 years ago, still, it hurts when it happens, and even though I soon recover, I always feel it sets me back, I don’t dwell on it, I just have a really good memory of all my experiences, positive and negative.

It’s not something that depresses me, but being a shy, hypersensitive introvert with anxiety, it’s something that makes me very self conscious, because I know I’m not getting paranoid when I think people are talking about me behind my back, because they are, I’m their target, somehow, I’m making them feel safer, but that’s just human nature I guess, the beast inside and all that.

I know I probably judge my genuine appearance too harshly, but you might be surprised by just how many uncompassionate, unmindful assholes there are out there. There are good people also, I live an easy life, – retired early, – my mum’s an angel, I have three older brothers who help me out with stuff, I’ve had many relationships, my closest friend grows his own and he doesn’t charge me anything, I just help him when I can. – Oh, did I mention, I also have chronic osteoarthritis in my knees and suffered a serious spinal injury about 4 years ago, but the Tramadol eases that, I like Tramadol, it’s a very good recreational substance, if not abused.

Perhaps now, some of my previous posts might make more sense, I don’t now.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m pretty happy and content at this moment in time, that’s probably what’s giving me the strength to confront this subject in public, so to speak. And, I’m glad I’m me, congenital-anaomalies included, they’ve shaped me in ways other people can only imagine, and I draw solace from them, and… and they make me a better person, he says with tears in his eyes, but it’s true…

I don’t want any comments or support, I’m fine, I’m just putting this out there to get it off my chest, my skinny, boney and ever-so slightly buckled chest, but that’s another story…

And obviously, so many people are far worse off than me, but I’m not them, I’m just me.


Angels are real


They walk among us
Don’t have wings
No feathers in the air
Too humble to sing
They’re real flesh and blood
Not heavenly creatures
Soft human faces
Bright eyes are their features

They don’t blow trumpets
Or pluck at strings
Just gently reach out
With the strength that they bring
Feet firmly placed
Right here on the ground
Here on the Earth
Real angels are found


Inspiration ~ Jean Ann

mother ~ angel ~ friend