Bony fingertips pry,
Cut me open, peek inside;
See the demons where they lie
Dressed in heavenly disguise.
Their feathers tickle my intestines
With sacrilegious sickness.
Bleed me of my illness,
And gift me with forgiveness.
Cradled in the sanctity of Death’s grip,
Touched by hideous intentions
With no eyes to birth a witness.

-SLuR

The atoms that make up my body are particles of dirt,  
The wind swept me away, now I'm particularly hurt.
Adam was the snake and Eve was the tree;
We're the worm left wriggling between teeth.
My rib cage gives birth to insects and palpitations
While my brain *******, quietly with anticipation
Keeping thoughts hidden in old socks and between sheets,  
Pain, a private pleasure meant only for-  
Me and my delicate expectations, shatter upon *******  
With religious dedication. Probe the world in its delicate place,
Where time ceases to exist and life has been erased.

-SLuR

I live for the lies and false hope towered high upon your crumbling throne.
And you cried when you told me so, holding my soul and tethering my bones.  

-SLuR

I.
the background noises in his head,
they make him wish he were dead,
make him afraid to tread,
an endless ****** red thread.

a tight-gripped gun,
a twisted kind of fun.
fueled by inferiority complex,
makes him grip a loaded gun of god-complex.

II.
reckless and unaware,
treading heavily into places no one could bear.
the trauma of countless no more
capitalized and embossed into his core.

a perfect villainous smile,
vile,
nailed into his metaphorically unbreakable cranium,
distorted invested repressed tantrum.

II b.
he is hell bent,
yet heavenly sent.
regretfully,
sadly.



III.
he just wants to fill the emptiness,
a validation of his worthiness.
his head is the seven seas of confusion,
with a room mirroring the worst reflection.

IV.
shotgun clacking,
a madman in the making,
unloaded,
“fire it!”
fired.

V.
a deafening heartbeat under his ribs,
poor souls forcefully reaped,
ghosting the veil,
who’s going to tell the tale?

VI.
“what have I done?”
a dropped empty god-complex shotgun.

VII.
one, two, three, four, five, six, sev-
before he guns himself.

Doctor York says "You've got cancer."
I keep smoking
I light one up and blow smoke in his face

The queen says "You're not funny."
I keep joking
Make myself a fool and sad disgrace

My mom says "I hate you."
I start choking
As she has her hands over my face

And God says "You're a waste."
I start poking
And making fun of his outrageous taste

It almost feels as if this industry
Relies on our ignorance, just to survive.
This new and impressionable generation
Brainwashed by toxic, destructive lies.
Young women pressured to pump up their lips
**** in their stomachs, push up their "****"
Only to return home, exhausted and drained
From all the pretence to keep up that façade

Energy that could be used elsewhere
Pursuing their dreams, showing someone they care;
Is our relevance determined by the size of our behind?
'Cause at least that's what the media pumps into our minds-
Better get weave, but look natural too...
Better have perfect eyebrows, maybe get them tattooed...
Better keep them legs shaved, bleach that upper lip...
Better make that skin spotless, edit those pics...
Go hit the gym girl, not for your health,
But to find that "good" man to hand over his wealth.
Oh, and don't get too comfortable in your own skin,
Don't try to stand out, just try to fit in.
Don't practise self-love, don't think you're "too nice"
The men they don't like it, best take their advice.
Just shrink yourself down and do as you're told
'Cause the man has no place for a woman too bold.

What are these messages we're teaching, man?
The power of music is in the wrong hands.
Whatever happened to respecting the art?
Singing songs to empower, reach out to the heart?
Not to gloat, or to sneer, or put others to shame
Or get back at that ex without using their name -

Yes it's freedom of expression, but there are better ways to do it;
Maybe use your pain to help another soul get through it.
Maybe use your spotlight to teach these younger souls
Not to beat themselves up for the things they can't control.
Preaching "do as you wish, just be mindful of others
Branded or not, dress however you feel
Stay true to your heart and what brings you to life
Forget the superficial, that isn't what's real -
What's real is the passion
The breaths that you take
Smiles you plant on people's faces
Each inch of progress that you make
The beauty of our natural world
The loving lessons that you teach
The smallest act of kindness -
A smile on the street."

When you want to tell him you miss him
Hold your tongue like you are hanging onto a ledge
You are saving yourself by not letting go
When you want to tell him you miss him
Listen for your inner guidance
You know what it will say, your heart cannot bear
One more rejection
When you want to tell him you miss him
Think of why this all came to an end
He used to be the one filled with apologies
Look how the tables have turned
When you want to tell him you miss him
Think of her name, think of the girl who stimulates his heartbeat
Think of how she is nothing like you
Think of how her smile is plastered on every vacant space in his brain
Think of how he is missing her in place of you
When you want to tell him you miss him
Don't, let the words slide down back into your gut where they belong
Do not give him the leverage
Let him think that you are missing someone else too
Someone else who is not him