Thoracic Animus (3)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (3)"
   
   Mutt's sacred heart was not related to the snowman, but like Saint John the Eagle at the Last Supper, putting his ear over Christ's left breast, listening to the pulse of pure Divinity, knowing--there is a time for peace; on the flip side, there is a time for war.
   That poor boy with autism, OCD & tics, social phobia, digestive disorders, constant ringing in the ears, and they call him Rain Man, make fun of his lesions, say the boogeyman is under his bed, yet they are the boogeyman, rattling his cage for decades, thieving away his confidence in Christ, his belief that Jesus loves him; furthermore, imprisoning him, and we are called to visit those in prisons, not just the criminals, even taken down from Calvary by Orthodox Jews, but those living in the pits of their own personal Pandemonium, false testimony offered upon them--these Godly losers loading them down with opprobrium, when they have been abused by culture, pure culture, and they snap; next, you call them guilty, when you are wearing the adder's mask, hiding a forked-tongue beneath, but as Daniel means:  "God is my judge," knowing every aspect of inner thought, for nothing is hidden from God, not even a man praying in private, or playing with his private parts concerning the girl at the grocery store, which is still negative adultery, yet the true Law has been dismissed, and Jesus picks it up from Moses, saying to spread it like healthy bacteria.
   They tried to keep G. Gordon Liddy down.  Jimmy Carter fought back.  The media is propaganda, yet even the modern king knows there are spies hidden in his scepter, nanotechnological spiders weaving wicked webs, and your best friend is your worst enemy, like a mean girl, for you look better than her, and all women crave beauty, as do men envy it, that's why fat porn is rarely observed as Socrates empirically witnessed before drinking the Kool-Aid, and still running wisely at the mouth, for an unmasking intention of those that deal in death.
   Mutt had a bloody poop, and buried it under the rocks.   

Big Trouble in Little China Pork chop express

Thoracic Animus (2)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (2)"
   
   Mutt was worried about the real carnal crimes, and knew no drones or satellite imagery could find that girl from Tennessee, for Deputy Dawg has been dogged, picking on the little guy suffering from high anxiety and phobias bizarre, while a possible white molester rolls free in America, 
   He didn't know if it was the non-monkey bloods being hunted, but there is truth in ALL, and of course we know of MKUltra and such, and that it was Russia who defeated the Germans, losing near 30 million, but everyone is prone to drink Kool-Aid at times.
   Mutt put an ice pack on his skinny buttocks, his gimp-like disfigurement not bothering his internal Popeye the Sailor Man, for he ate spinach for iron, and pooped painfully, though always buried it with rocks, as if telepathically picking up all the negative energy from others' pubic hairs on government-placed commodes.  There is no such thing as an inviolate commode, for another man or woman having sex with his last wife could not compare to someone evacuating their toxicity through the labia of his toilet bowl, penetrating, in his allowed, singular mind, a Lincoln Log of angry food being eaten, as obese people swallow plenty of aggression.  And Mutt was no violent criminal, nor partied, but just watched the Catholic and Science Channels, wanting to know more about Hairy Man, and those old timers hunting him up in the Northwest.  Heck, as long as not violent or insidious in attempts to neglect or take away, or steal freedom--what's wrong with being a rare breed, after all--his name was Mutt, half Serb and half of the Iroquois Nation.
   So, Mutt removed the ice pack, put some psoriasis cream into his anal cavity, and pooped out a pink fountain of cotton candy produced by Pepto-Bismol, spinach, and some squash here and there, mixed with canned chicken.  Then, he invoked Saint Joan of Arc to carry on, doing his Earthly duties, even if it meant his own death, such as taking care of an overly-depressed dog dubbed Buckwheat.  

Definition of NEGLECT

   
   "Definition of NEGLECT"
   
   You think certain people would know these words, holding me accountable, a soul without a mask, brutally honest--even about my time with the watermelon, though at least I don't look at teenage girls naked, like my brother does in those magazines, and God knows where else.
   And to think he says it's not my house, yet it's not his house, and I live here, yet he says he'll throw me out when it's not his house, trusting a two day a week thug, long red dreadlocks, unable to articulate modern vocabulary properly, and should take a bath or roll on some deodorant under her pits before entering someone's house, and they call them hand towels because they're for the hands, not used to wipe your face on.  I told him--if your biggest dilemma is whether to get a Tesla or a Mercedes, and you settled for a BMW--you know, that car could have got Mom a nice, clean, actual nurse--you monkey-blooded cottage cheese eater.  I guess that's for all the times he's physically attacked me before I finally kicked his ass.  And now the truth of NEGLECT, and who is genuinely guilty.  Mom and me took care of his kids every day for years, and since she fell ill, his entire family has teleported to the beach, Europe, more time at the beach, and maybe a half hour every three weeks at best, armed with a McDonald's milkshake--that's NEGLECT.

NEGLECT:  TO PAY LITTLE ATTENTION TO; DISREGARD.  TO BE REMISS IN THE CARE OF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

   But hell, he doesn't care, not even when I begged him to plead with my step-dad to get a colonoscopy, which I ultimately convinced him of myself, and felt guilty for it.  Oh well, some people give false testimony, and others wear no masks.  Enjoy the ladies during all that travel time old bucko, but who would look at him, maybe over him . . .  I think I'll take a bloody bowel evacuation now, being neglected myself, and fighting for my own life alongside my mother.   

Thoracic Animus (1)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (1)"
   
   Mutt didn't mind that his sister said his sophisticated shrink was piling on the bullshit, for he needed fiction to survive, as she stupidly surmised, not knowing, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Tics can be a blessing, evading the Soylent Green of contagious contamination, and understanding the allegorical inheritance of PLANET OF THE APES, Heston screaming:  "Get your hands off of me--you damn, filthy ape."  The positive blood of 85%, in approximate fashion being total monkey, unless gelled with Christ's non-metaphorical blood, to be risen on the last day--if I'm not in you; next, you are not in Me, and apart from Me--you can do nothing.
   Mutt resisted the bullying by being vociferous and unmasking, taking it to the underground, being his own Dick of Privacy, and knew that his brother's wife's child was not conceived on Valentine's Day, for that would make her baby due November 13th in surgical fashion--that's a Valentine's Day baby, and if you were absent; then, not your child.  His brother's wife, when also visiting, proved what she was, attempting to orally please him, yet his OCD shrank a mushroom with vivid imagery, for she was a foul-mouthed skank, and Kentucky Fried Chicken U is not Yale, but get the credit card, and make the payments, as the system, run by a shadow government inspires selection through a non-Darwinian process, though preaches it, and we drink the Kool-Aid, too afraid of our First Amendment Right to not offer clear and present danger, fighting words, but it's always ambiguous for Mutt, disregarding his brother's six foot nine, as Mutt's scrawny crazy would knock his dick off, grabbing the scrotum till the urethra exploded a non-seminal discharge of death, but not the Dim Mak--no, not at this time.
   Mutt fancied his physician, and hoped for healing, but washing was keen in Leviticus, and only the Levites could touch Mary (Ark of the Covenant) with prayer, as others had an Oedipus Complex, and Mutt would fight any man, but understood his limitations, having undergone neurological damage from an ambush as the older sibling smacked him uncanny after the BAR Exam, yet insists he's legit, as being a liar is the first agenda taught by crummy law schools not up Northeastern.   
   So, Mutt just kept to himself, while Facebook is the World's Spygame, and denounced social culture for throwing knives, and a glass jaw, but the iron fist, even though his frying pan was coated in copper, though better to channel the crystals, raising a frequency to know the higher vibrations that make the blonde angels arrive.  Hey, it's America, or used to be--a free country, unless you assault a man taking care of his mother, when the rest make a grand exodus, sickened by her sickness.  

More Hemorrhoids

   
   "More Hemorrhoids"
   
   Why don't lawyers, not attorneys, get hemorrhoids?  Because they're perfect assholes.  Especially at a Bush League School, taught to lie and trick, when Jesus is truly Big Brother, knowing All, and seeing All--that is why He commanded to pray behind locked doors and closed windows, not being a hypocrite, praising falsely to be seen.
   My pseudo-brother, not a true family member, as he does not pursue the will of God, raising his kids atheistic, believing in the FDA, which almost killed me @ 28, if a physician wouldn't have signed off on an experimental medicine.  
   Anyway, my pseudo-brother, hating Joseph the Dreamer, said I will be kicked out of the house, when I'm disabled, and my step-dad, investigated by the ATF years ago, running guns out of the house, making my Haldol and Xanax-induced mother go to a notary, wobbling her in to sign his fortune--check into it.  
   So, my pseudo-brother takes a snot rag from his pocket, always having a cold, and attempts to wipe my Lewy Body Mom's nose, when pneumonia is their leading cause of death, mostly due to nurse neglect from not brushing, and I tell him to stop; next, he tells me to shut up loudly, and I tell him I'll kick his ass--very loudly, for he has attacked me numerous times, even as a child, though asks for my pain pills, and seduced me into giving up one for his young tail porn elation, and his wife said I looked like the devil with a mustache, so I say she has a cottage cheese ass, and my niece is a snowflake, marching against Trump, drinking the Kool-Aid, and never sees her grandma who took care of her; plus, my youngest nephew, who I personally, along with my mother took care of for years, picking him up everyday from school, but since my Mom and me are disabled--he never visits his grandma, due to his father detesting Christ, saying it's all bullshit, and nobody believes in angels, when there are one billion Catholics; plus, more religious people.  They hunt the negative blood, and I have four nipples; moreover, have laid on my deathbed, and they still continue to attack, but I will rebuke them, feeding, brushing, showering, medicating, talking to, loving, praying for, and sincerely adoring my mother, and they do absolutely nothing.  Good day ladies and germs.  
   They are coming over Friday.  If my Mom gets a cold or pneumonia--it is due to them intentionally smothering her with germs.  

Calamitous Cruel

   
   "Calamitous Cruel"
   
First, I tell my brother that Mom has fallen five years ago,
And he laughs, no surprise, since when my Dad died, he said:  "I'm relieved, for I have ego."
Next, thugs come over, torture Mom's hallucinations from Lewy Body with vile t.v.--
Her sitting and crying, while they read books on Lucifer in front of her and me;
Moreover, the thug attempts to poison my therapy dog with a peach pit,
And almost crushes the hound with a therapy chair, my Mom having a fit.
More stuff too, reserved for the day;
Alas, a new pseudo-caretaker, with a big lazy ass--buttocks decay!
Sleeps half her shift, snoring with sass,
Having no idea about genuine class--
On her cell phone loudly while getting paid by the days, 
And controlling the television's ways.
Yet when I go out of the room she turns down the t.v. rudely
To cruelly talk on her cell phone, more obnoxiously,
Yet I ask her to stop jacking up her cell phone, that rings:  "Motherfucker!"
She bitches me out; then, is consoled by a text from my sister-in-law's undercover,
While Mom and me are fighting for our lives--
And more come over that don't jive.
Just yesterday, I politely asked the new lady to take her private phone calls outside in the sunny day--
While I feed my Mom, and we watch the Dick Van Dyke show and pray.
She jumps in my face, her red dreadlocks like the devil,
Making me want to be a rebel,
For uncouth and thuggish behavior
Is inappropriate, and it doesn't favor
The sick and maligned,
And my step-dad hides away for years, out of design--
Not once feeding my Mom, knocking her out of bed, 
And I find her on the floor with a bump and blood on her head.
Like that one lady who dropped her in the shower,
Being more than a trumpet--blaring on her cell phone louder
While getting paid to hound her,
And nobody takes my mother out save me,
Or visits regularly,
And when they do it's a mix of whiskey and guns,
Armed with loud mouths and obnoxious fun,
Almost driving her to suicide when she was younger,
And torturing my childish mute, rocking me with shaking thunder.
Plus, step-dad drinks all of my medication,
And my brother asks for pills in the past for his buzzed elation.
Telling me they'll throw me out of the house,
And sister-in-law smiling, saying to put Mom away over a year ago, trapping her like a mouse.
Do they just want to shoot her in the head?
Are they mad that she's not dead?
Talk to her, play nice television, and use soothing aromatherapy--
Not dismissing her suffering by imprisoning her unearthly anxiety.
Further having taken her to a notary
On Haldol and Xanax combined,
Years ago, making her sign.
It's all sick, happening under a physician's  murderous prescription,
And a misdiagnosis without the Good Lord's permission.
Then, my brother tries to get her on another anti-psychotic to supposedly ease,
Which further kills people with dementia-related disease;
Moreover, she had breast cancer and it brings that back with a tease.
Nobody has bought her clothes in over two years,
And she sits in rags while they all disappear,
But I've spent over 4,000 dollars on her, making only a few hundred each month,
And big brother gives step-dad 10,000 dollars to further put on the crunch,
But when you have college girl porn in your house,
I guess that's the way of a loving spouse,
And my gut is killing me as is the insomnia and multiple sleep disorders;
Plus, the panic of contamination from crossing into public borders.
They laugh at me for washing off my canned foods, because that's all I can afford,
While buying Mom vitamins and fruit and ice cream, yet in my colon they stick the sword,
Neglecting both her and me,
Oh well, they too will get sick one day; then, we'll see.
They just lick their chops, wanting her further neglected in a nursing home,
When they have millions of their miser-like own.  
But I love you Mom--
You've never been more beautiful as I wake you in the morning Sun,
And do everything for you all day, 
It not bringing me dismay,
For to tuck you in at night, kneeling and saying your prayers for you,
Makes me a stronger man, and never more have I adored you,
Knowing they'll make me put on your little shoes,
Taking you to a neglecting home ,so far away,
Hurting you in an isolating way,
While they crack open the champagne,
Enjoying your and my pain--
It's Occam's Razor--
Points their calamitous behavior.