I like you better when you’re numb
I’m sick and tired of false devotion
Devote yourself to moving on
Or suck it up and let it go!
But you’re always out to get me…


Oh, that quiet little forked tongue

Must feel good rolling on a vile, vulgar vat

Of the purest acid, curling up like fermented spit

And dried offended blood when you

Bit down the corners of your sore cheeks,

Frustrated at the utter lack of control

And flaunting your own proudest corruption.

How cute does that look like on you?

It’s just another waste with puffed cheeks

Blotted in heliotrope, like crushed lies

And bad byes and bruised overused words

Put up to defend that pretty vague hurt,

When all it’s ever done is make it last even longer.

Blatant provocations only last as long before

The sheer amusement sets in, building up

Your own ‘sacrificing’ design of a crude collapse,

Building up the past tense because you think

It’s going to inflict, and pulling the carpet

Under your own crooked feet in the process;

Panting over your ‘headline’ exposés when

You’re already stripped like a shameful screw,

And still spinning, spinning, spinning,

Too out of balance in the wrong direction.

The more that shaky pyramid piles up,

The more I have reasons to quickly laugh at it,

And me and my company can talk about

The time we didn’t even care enough

To hear the indignant, malicious screams

Emanating from the careless night, as we were

Too busy trying to break the daylight in—

Tell us more please, don’t stop now

When I’m already fascinated by the confabulations;

Counting sins like they meant jack shit,

Counting up tallies scratched in solid copycat lines,

Counting yourself in like you even meant a thing.

But maybe don’t sit on the damn fence

Too long and just fucking get over it;

Because most of my golden verses are just not

Meant for all that assuming salivation

And some boys aren’t meant to push

Their greedy fingers into your black hole

And pleasure you deep with choking expectations.

I don’t know if the obvious attention ignites

The gasoline in those butane ribs, but

If some damage control is all there is, then just

Who the hell am I to attempt to ceasefire it?

Oh what a pity, such a pity—that all of that

Pent-up resentment just stubbornly refuses to move on

With the “sweet” in the oversaturated smile

And the venom in the secret snivels back home

Cursing out in spiteful boo-hoo’s and vindication like

The entire world did that poor, poor heart wrong…

Well fuck me, but is that really all that’s

Keeping your twisted self-indulgence going on?


You think opinions make you savvy
(Like you’re some kind of “expert”)
Your running mouth falls on deaf ears
(I tried to get you to understand)
You say you’re winning ’cause you’re laughing
(Get it all into the last time)
While I’m crying crocodile tears
Just suck it up and let it go!



Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “Hypersensitivity

  1. good heavens, that was so brutal!
    I absolutely loved this one. reminded me of Mr. Robot for some reason

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