Tag Archives: late ass post

Cutting It Out

When I look in the mirror 
I know not who I see 
It’s hopeless, I’m hopeless 
But I’m not sorry for what that I’ve done
They had it coming, we all die someday
I do what the voices tell me to do…

~*~

I want to cut myself open

And come back inside

The recesses of my bones

Broken and pathetic tonight

I want to slit my smile

From my ear to my throat

And I’ll choke myself to sleep

Drunk on blood and bloat

I want to scar myself absurd

Hanging on to every word

That I wrote all over my hands

I don’t even understand

I want to be bruised or bitten

Torn apart and be smitten

By the throes that keep me up

They never want me to stop

I want to cut myself to shreds

Crawl back inside my cesspool head

I don’t want a body that betrays me

In a life that doesn’t even want to take me.

~*~

It’s always easier to kill 
When you’re already dead inside
Lock me up ’cause I’ve lost my fucking mind
Rock back and forth, it kills me, it thrills me
Rock back and forth, to see you dead…

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Plastic Puppy

i toss a toy

quite randomly

to mollify you

amusement spreads

like wildfire

on your chubby face

“dog”, you utter

quite unsurely,

face crinkled in confusion

i smile and say “yes,

dog goes ruff!”

emitting a growl

and the best bark i can do

at the last part

you laugh;

cheery sound breaking

my internal bedlam

repeat “dog!”

and hold the toy

closer to my face

where i could kiss it

in the same way you did

and so i do;

and then i clamp it

in between my mouth

and attack you with tickles

barking and laughing

as you squeal in delight

and the plastic toy

falls away

as we both fall over

in silliness and happiness

on that pastel pink

adorable owl-spangled bed

giggling widely…

this is a nonsensical tale

no one wants to bite

but we are truly barking mad,

aren’t we, child?

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A Hypocrite’s Hell

Filthy hypocrite;

The rancid words

That you shiv on me

Your blood and flesh,

Are just as sugary

As the sweet nothings

You whisper to

The boys you play

With every night.

Either way, both are

Deceiving blades

That disorient our

Sensibility and make

Us crave for heat.

You’re connivingly

Talented, I’ll give you that.

Filthy hypocrite;

Why don’t you dress

For decency when

You face us, yet

Wear your finest

Wardrobe for your

2 AM excursions?

It’s all about superficial

Identity, and you

Harass us for opinions

When we don’t care

If you paraded across

Town looking like a

10 million dollar diva

Or a homeless rag whore

Clothes can’t hide

Your monstrosity

Anymore, you see?

Filthy hypocrite;

Be less concerned

About the way

You look to others

And start caring

Not about the

Mindless materialism,

Or cash, but just

Actually give a

Damn about us.

Not like I’d expect

It anytime soon

But it would be

Quite nice for once.

Filthy hypocrite;

You’re the poison

That cripples my veins

The shitty anxiety

That never rests

The repressing memory

That suffocates,

Trying to stop the

Strangers that keep

Me fucking alive

And yet you say

You’re only helping,

You only want

The best for me

Well if you want to,

Then let me just

fucking breathe.

Filthy hypocrite;

I’m supposed to

Appreciate the way

You act, and I’m

Supposed to love

You unconditionally,

Yet here I am,

With a loathing and

Death wishes and

Malevolence that

Throbs behind my

Eyes wholeheartedly…

It’s funny, isn’t it?

And yet no one’s laughing.

Not me, not the knives,

Not the hate you branded

On the undersides of

Our petulant brains.

You think I’m smiling,

But it’s called gritting

My teeth and biting

My tongue to shreds,

Haven’t you noticed?

So, filthy hypocrite;

Laugh it off, won’t you?

It’s advantageous to

Your moral decay

And human indecency

An a smile faker than

Eating plastic surgery,

But at least you’re

Content in gloating

Over how parasitically

Charming you are,

Fucking happy over

You and your shining

Pathetic status quo.

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A Pontificating Performance

Today I fell and felt better
Just knowing this matters
I just feel stronger and sharper
Found a box of sharp objects
What a beautiful thing
Do you want a song of glory
Well I’m fucking screaming at you…

~*~

There isn’t a need to stick

Your sanctimonious wooden nose

High up and mighty in the air

For you reckon you’re so clever

And a marvellous timely troubadour

With your prevarications of despair

Oh, special, pretty, little white flower

The crowds adore your recherché

And a flounce of your plaited hair

But your hagiographic glass eyes and

Pinocchio nose impales mendacity

The audience bleeds whenever you share

Soon they will disperse haughtily

Leaving your stage in its desolation

And next time no one would give a care

So pray not be quite presumptuous

And see all sides of the icositetragon theatre

When you’re performing to be fair.

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