Category: identity

  • Living Dream

    This is a outline of a very vivid dream which had a long impact on my psyche, so long in fact it was months before I wrote it down and certain advents of this dream still have not fully faded away, with a few event’s i left out because they cause reaction from me whenever I delve to deep. It’s a little confusing, as i have been contemplating it for years:

    A Tsunami Wave destroys a giant “arceotype/city” floating in the ocean populated with cloned humans from the mainland.

    All the dead bodies together touching trapped in a purgatory. Specifically a French women and her family as the focus, but with americans, asains, etc….) They all have the same dream ,etc… and can not get out of it.

    People who die and face death again are freed.

    People who will not face death again will not accept it and keep on being trapped in the dream.

    People whom figure out the situation are even more screwed because they will not accept anything as real, be it death or the dream. Although they soon are able to figure out differences between reality and non-reality situations. These people are helped by aliens/angels, etc… as guides to try to  help them out of this living dead dream.

    The French women’s husband (with his original soul) is brought back to a clone body (he was birthed human originally) to their house on the shore high atop a cliff. The husband who could not accept his death was alive as the clone (for real) this time, but the caveat of the living dream was still his fate.

      His wife and children were still dead, other dead people’s souls not in clone bodies however can now come back and haunt the man who came alive again as wraiths and his living life is now part of a purgatory life, living dream, set in reality because of the clone body.

    Is understanding your being’s placement in the architecture of the universe and interactions amoung systems a curse? Or you can escape death, but how high the price?


    ©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. Written ~ 2004 before the Indian Ocean Tsunami.

  • 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

       

  • Curse

    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.

  • 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.

  • Lifetime – Dark Future Philosophical Sci-Fi

                                LIFETIME