Reality……...is
Fantasy………is not
but
a fools hope
.
.
.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
Category: blog
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My poetry is dead
To those who pick themselves up in silence, un-noticed, lost, but won’t give up
I know how it is
To go through the daily ritual. Unwilling to yeild, but exhausted and tired
Some of us with partners that are cold and frigid, not giving empathy, affection or love shut themselves off from you, then you shut yourself off
Others, who are single, but with the same fire in your heart, to give it all, but nobody to accept your power and love, you shut yourself off
You feel deeper, down to the working foundation of others, to touch, express your heat.
Open nerves, always giving, just wanting that touch, the lips, the pressure, to taste, to experience.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025.1st published on Substack
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Curse
Energy
Given freely
Is as breathing
For me
Understanding
Until now, ive had so much of it
But, frankly
I
Am
Utterly
Exhausted
I
Speak Truth
I
Endless hope
I
Set
Boundries
I
Don’t give up
……Why do I feel guilty?
Truth
I
am
prey
Human predators smell empathy
As
Sharks smell blood in the water
Allowing myself to be used
without equal reciprocity
Used
Endless cycle(s) of neglect
Affection to weapon
Sex to Weapon
Shrunk as weapon
Tool of endless emotional grounding
Control
Power
Stability
Comfort
I
Am
Tired
…….So very very tired
And I’m afraid
I
Have
Changed
I
Am
Broken
Victim
Survivor
Pariah
Empathy is a curse
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
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Pariah in the company of Phantoms
I am Pariah
A life devoid of touch, love, passion, a pillar of rough-hewn granite, to make other’s lives more comfortable so they don’t have to feel guilt. A mirrored avatar to reflect what they want to see; taking responsibility for the cowardly acts of their Phantoms.
Selfish Ideological Narcissists, making victims that exist in the interstitial spaces, Acceptable losses in the war.
A living taboo, stigmatized, no one wants to touch this flesh, it is taboo made real.
Aged masculinty shattered into dull edges, ego ripped out, longtime ideological identity destroyed; the devouring mother’s hunger satiated.
I no longer want to try to identify with anyone, as anyone, or with any group. All are phantoms.
The gulf is now infinite. Not your spaces in-between, because nothing exists on either side.
Playing my part in the background, while the Phantoms roleplay; it’s the curse of total detached awareness & empathy. Pain hidden in the shadows, invisible to all.
Pariah is my rightful place, I am the sacrificial king: I will let this demon eat my soul.
……and I will REVEL in the consumption
One with the Pariah that haunts the
interstitial spaces
the Pariah that whispers to the
phantoms in your nightmares
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2025. Originally
published on SubStack.
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Is this me
I’ve been reluctant to share this one. The vulnerable parts of me in this water color are still part of me now.
Some people re-invent themselves, that is a skill I don’t possess. I carry everything because it’s me and good or bad I own it, and owing it is important. If you don’t own your choices, you make villians of others as an excuse for your actions. There is far to much of that in our world.
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EROHERETIC – Bad Boy Blues 🔞
“I’m supposed to seduce, not the joker who writes this blog.” -
Strength
I’m stronger than you’ll ever be
Because, to endure and have your sanity, to make it so long, a clearly defined character, rock hard in its clarity
I am strength
hidden in the hot exhale of your breath
only seen in the cold void
when there is nothing left
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. -
incest wealth, bloated & depraved, voyeur of abomination
History teaches us a lesson about what the majority of the insanely rich and powerful become, how their brains devolve into psychosis, those that exist “As Above”; viewing the rest of us as meat bound chattle, flesh to be exploited, blood to be guzzled, to kill us with impunity, injure us, as if swallowing and bathing in the blood of virgins & the young can unwrinkle your skin or stop the ends of your DNA strands unraveling. The ultra-wealthy the powerful (abomination), these people use your labor, use disease, abort your health from the pollution they dump in your air, your water to make profit, use everthing to enrich themselves futher and steal your power, your health, & your confidence. The supposed miracle of laize-faire capitalism birthed into bloody flesh ripping cannibalism, disembowling itself, hedging itself, gorging itself on it’s own innards, betting on failure, only to leave shit, piss, bile, and gnashed bone.
Make you small, weak, prey.
Keep Rotting in the Free World
Consumer or consumed, your life is cheap
Economic salvation in sweatshops returned from the east,Despair the only quality of strife,
A reason for existence if you can afford the price,
If your price is right
250 years of the USA and it has birthed another generation of Nero’s, Bathory’s, D’sade’s, Caligula’s; your Maxwell’s, Diddy’s, Epsteins, Trumps, Fergusons, intelligence agencies…..we have called them the wealthy, rich, celebrities, CEO’s, intellectuals, left right, liberal conservative.
Ghouls who survive on the cannabilism of their fellow human beings. Spheres of power, as a super predator, you are the prey. They rape, commit genocide, murder, pollute and without question prove that wealth & power twist their humanity into abomination. Each inch given by us, the unwashed riff-raff, brings humanity a few feet closer to speciecide. The instable hunger of the abomination from insane levels of concentrated wealth and it’s self-serving power.
Multiple spheres of power coalesce, using other’s for the physical manifestation of their cruelty. It’s not enough to raise the prices of medication, or dump PCB’s in the water, force hunger, or steal your labor; they need to exert that power on living targets they can touch; deflowerimg by the domination of the powerless, those invisible. Rape is the goal, seeing the cruelty they created by their own hands, yielding that power must be seen physically and mentally on a victim, to enforce the fact that they beleive themselves “On High” over the rest of us who do not exist in their incestual nucleus of spheres; to manifest it, on a small scale for selfish gratification. The sweet suffering of the helpless; A sacrifice to their gluttonous god they worship: Themselves!
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WuckFinter 2026 Feb. 22
Rays Liquors Wauwatosa, WI (MKE area)
Put Cheese & Beer, and Music in a parking lot on a 25 degree day and we shall come.
Raclette cheese 🧀! Mmmmmm… 
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ALIEN_RELAY – ISSUE #6
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May Haiku
Things have changed.
Time vigor pride beaten down by the club of life.
Resurrection?
Not while we’re alive.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. Written ~ 2010. -
Enlightened Journaling Prompt #1
Okay ive never done this before but here we go:
“What’s a stupid thing you do or say, and you know it’s dumb, that slightly annoy’s other people, but you do it anyway because you think it’s funny and you don’t care it annoy’s others?”
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White Whale
I have no white whale to consume my soul, I am that white whale. Born a beast a monster: failures, oppression, hurt, murder, rape, death, genocide, femicide, and even your internal misery. I am your enemy i am your monster.
qualities you possess, your biological virtuous signaling superiority; a kingdom built of rage safe space for authority
victimhood aggreivment gives you power, self righteous-justification, superior unquestioned objectification
of me, the white whalepluck out my eyes, spear my flesh, spill my blood, sickle my fat, bind my girth, blind me with your spit, hell hath no fury like your scorn upon me, i am your monster, your beast, a sacrifice for the goddess your ruler above, penetrate me, rape me, a mangled object your conquest that was born guilty
Yes be Ahab, understand
While lashed on your shattered ship
Sinking into the ocean abyss
”Damning yourself was a choice, you created your end by decision, your agency was your own.”
“Never understanding the nature of revenge while you let me consume your soul, do you understand you never were free, as long as all your thoughts were always centered on me.”
I, the white whale swims free, I will forever, be the last thing your living eyes ever shall see
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. -
Social Media, Being A Writer & Bonding
So back in 2015 I stopped using Facebook and Social media all together, i did have a My Space before that. In-between I dabled in Reddit, twitter, and Instagram all of which in my point of view are cesspools. Not that I’m a saint, but I detest those who catfish & scam, trolls, asshole partisians, virtue superiority signaling, maga, aggreivment gender supremacist, trauma grifters, and the general way people treat eachother with disrespect and make instant judgements on your life and character. Also, the stalkers, who go after you, plenty of those ass hats.
I orginally quit social media in 2015 for two reasons, with my friends it felt hallow and fake why not just talk, the second was how MAGA used it with Cambridge Anylitica to get Trump elected, blatant manipulation and FaceBook was cool with it: that was to me grounds to tell FB to fuck off. I haven’t been back since, nor Amazon for that matter. I’ve always made decsions based on my politics and where I spend my money and what platform I allow to advertise to me i take important. One of the reasons I left Substack, because it’s owned by a libertarian tech bro. After the Charlie kirk assination they let MAGA gaslight and make death threats for at least a week. I have no doubt just like Zuckerberg & X, soon as a writer or blogger they will write into the terms that your work, copyright, or IP will no longer be protected.
The thing that disappoints me the most about social media is relationships with other people, or the superficiality of them. I am a person who always is trying to “bond”. I’ve found that the vast majority of people you think you are bonding with are not treating the experience of learning about eachother the same way you would physically, as in face to face. It’s as if the wired has a “buffer” that keeps these bonds that you build from ever becoming reality. I can’t imagine how it is to date with online apps, it must be like going through a menu at a 24 hour greek restaurant at 3am with a bunch of other drunk people.
In December of 2024, I went back in and to blueskye trying to push back against X like many X’ers, then came WordPress for my writing, then I left both for Substack in may of 2025 (also, partly because a WordPress writer was actively gaslighting me). I went to SS just when the notes part (the social media part) of SS came online. Though, I met a lot of cool people on Blueskye & Substack many who had helped me through some of the toughest emotionaly horrible months of my life, there has been only one that I have a meaningfull relationship with that I have from all of it.
The cruelty I faced for coming out regarding my assaults was sometimes overwhelming. The anger and spite directed at me for speaking out just to be heard, the cruelty, the hate, the rage. I finally had enough of it on SS too, like I had on Blueskye. Living with an assault considered taboo, I have no idea what I was thinking trying to find answers on social media sites. I was desperate just to find some grace in a world that views you as a villian at birth, even though you were not the villian, and the experience goes against the narrative.
Now, I plan on staying on WordPress. The last year has been an education for me. Social media is not for some people, I am one of them.
I’m a writer, on the darker side, and a terrible artist, but what I show you and what you read is genuine, it’s from my heart and mind. The majority of the art or images I take myself.
I give you me and I ask nothing from you in return.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
Ecoheretic 