Sociopathic Father

Randy,

Really enjoyed the read and so true in words, is this poem to life...Well written and in retrospect reminds me of a story i wrote, on some what the same regards ...Great job sir....

Jim

                                  (The Story of a Psychopath/Sociopath)

"The point where Black night, doesn't turn, to Blue day I’ll always lay” The point where Black night, doesn't turn, to Blue day I lay, looking emphatically down from up above, I view thoughts of acclamation to fame, through effervescent, yet boastful, poignancy of solitude, once I lived in blissful heretic, by birth, this in general,would automatically thrust you, within limes light, yet human eye, has me elusively stealth, on ground. If the only thing that is holding us together is my past, for lust of pain, we by far, should not be as one or together but as the seeker and sought after, from this day forward. A lot of analytical thoughts floating, on a daily basis, in the mind of a psychopathic killer. In this head, I thee wed, and with thee, I have locked away, many of my most poetic unjustices, of my crimes of choice, to the heart, mind and without further ado, the density, of your natural soul. The point where Black night, doesn't turn to Blue day I lay, flushing thoughts of my “adventures beginnings,” of my earlier days of dastardly deeds, owed, is so many, to look back upon and baste in the glory, of my, “flawless than a diamond,” virtues of gain and taste of quenceful, glory. A calculative collection, of perverted criminal instincts, bottled in an explosive conglomeration, of a blatant disregard, to the rights of another human being…….A sick man, am I and for all the right reasons, missed that med dose, (twelve days) in a row and counting. Leaves your mind playing tricks on you and rest assured, it sure takes its toll, on a clinically proclaimed sick man. Seeing things that surely aren't there, hearing the dastardly deeds of others whom again, gather nor claims, any physically compounded substance…. The point where Black night, doesn't turn, to Blue day I lay, Can’t count the sheep, all the sheep, (wouldn't you know it), they too, I have slaughtered. Ah but tonight’s still young and a life’s song, (by me), has not yet been won, “life’s song” not to be confused, with any musical tribute but instead, (their mortal soul).

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HUMANITY

That was good but totally killed my vibe.