Tag: alone

  • 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

       

  • BSKY to WP-JP to SS back to WP-JP journey  Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

    When did you begin your WordPress journey, and how do you manage it day by day?

    Thank you Deepika, for the prompt!
    Feel free to use any prompts for May 2026 

    From https://justrojie.com

    Part I: ONE


    Medication change November 2024

    I had a medication change from a Zoloft generic to a new medication on November of 2024, which works much differently than the serotonin based zoloft.  Changing not only made me susceptible to seasonal affective disorder, but I began to suffer from depression, with Trump winning, my overall mental health took a hit.

    Blueskye: Ecoheretic – December 2024

         I was not prepared for social media and how people are protected from face-to-face interactions. Because of my medication change i was not prepared emotionaly, I’ve always had little to no armor, and I am very sensative.

       I went back on with the intention to network with others to resist. Well, it was a joke. The left is just a shadow of what it was. Different factions segregate themselves from eachother. Feminists vs. Labor, Progressives vs. Democrats, Identity politics vs. Moderate dems, etc… the entire left at war with itself. Walled into their areas of group think. The hatred i felt directed at me for being a white male, as if I had the choice of how I was born, was intense. The hatred I felt for coming out about my sa’s was intense. One poster literally said male assault victims didn’t matter, like it was like saying “all lives matter”. On the right i wasn’t even a man,  but a pathetic simp that should be killed, well, left & right that feeling of not belonging to anyone or anything intensified.

       This is the fact, I am one man, I am not “all men”, and I am sick of being guilted for the actions of other men and being assaulted does not make me less of a man. Men can have an inner misandrist, it’s real. Being granted victim status however, an adult male is not given it by soceity in fact no one wants to talk about it or deal with it, its taboo. Men have to take it if they want to heal. I had yet to take my victim status, and I needed permission to do it.

      So, like any other human, I made myself small after that, cleared my history twice, started publishing some poetry, I couldn’t get it all on my posts, so I researched website platforms and WP was politicaly one of the best, as in it doesnt feed the tech bro’s.

    Fate? The first person I connected with on blsky was a misandrist lesbian goethe goth. She needed help and I did help. I don’t think she needed all of it, but whatever happened it got me rediscovering myself & help crack my suppressed memories. She has my eternal thanks.

    WP-JP: Echoheretic – March of 2025

    At first it started out okay, I would publish on WP and then put the link on Blueskye. I did this till about April, and then left Blueskye, I was done with the instant judgement of my character, things said taken out of context, being blocked, stalked, harassed.

    For most of April & May I enjoyed WP-JP. I learned that i liked writing erotica, found out i was good at it. Then another writer started to gaslight me. At first it was uplifting that she would react to my work, but that only lasted so long, everything changed when I came out about my sa’s. Ill just say her initials were DD, and her gaslighting towards me was based on ideology. So I decided to leave for Substack, I was sick of being mistreated.

    Substack: Alien Relay 3.0/Eroheretic – May of 2025

    Things got better, and then they got worse.

    When i moved over to SS the notes part of it just started. In fact it was okay at first, but at the start of 2025 SS was getting a lot of press and getting more popular.

    At this time I was emotionaly wrecked, my identity as a white male lefty with strong femenist ideals was on the way to being destroyed, questioning my own masculinity and worth, my confidence destroyed, the moral superiority of the left disgusted me after being on the receiving end. In fact there were times that I felt like it was my fault for my assaults, like I was the one who made them do it. I would literally cry everyday on my way to work, and the way home. It was the only place I could let it out without an audience. That rage i was suppressing, that I didn’t want to let out, but it wanted to be let out, was working its way out. And little at a time “all woman” would pass my mind.

      Know this, a person that breaks the narrative is a threat.


      

  • 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.

  • King of Fools

    Every space in my life is filled.

    Except for the most important space, which has been void for ages. The void is immense, and I doubt now it will ever be filled again.

    Things, nicknaks, books in towers, shoes upon shoes, pans atop pans, prints upon prints. So many “things”. Things purchased not out of need, but to fill someone elses void. Things saved and forgotten in boxes, to collect dust for nostalgia? Need?

    No amount of organizing, cleaning, no matter how much you do ever matters, nor works. The teetring mountain of things will overwhelm you, it will tip over on you and you will become lost in the clutter.

    When you realize that you are part of the clutter, just another thing with no space left for self. So you forget who you are, and give up more space until you are part of the background, part of the clutter in someone elses life.

    Then you become the house, to hold the clutter. The Foundation, encompassing all, keeping things safe, keeping the peace, like Atlas all of the weight is on your shoulders.

    Then you disappear, until you speak up, only to be given a performance to pull you back,  to get you to go silent, to forget again, to meld back into the clutter. To get you to be a creek in the wood of the foundation on a freezing day.

    Woe, my story is the story of millions of others, both men and women, i know im not alone in this tale. Just another fool/tool; be it fear of being alone, or keeping your honor and word out of pride, or not giving up in the face of overwhelming defeat. Where is the logic in any of that when you finally realize you are a thing? Knowing that you are a provider, a foundation, the protection, but not valued or recognized for any of it, or shown real affection or love. You are just a thing to be used for the comfort of others.

    This my dear, is what fools do. Maybe im the king of fools. To know the truth, walking that fine line between speaking truth to power, but at the same time knowing you’re the punchline of the biggest self-owning joke of all time.


    Actually, on second thought, Mike Ness can keep his crown. I have no need to be the king of anything.

      ©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.

  • Lifetime – Dark Future Philosophical Sci-Fi

                                LIFETIME

  • 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.