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I feel it rising, inside me...
overwhelming my hiding. Can’t let it find thee.
Seeking inside like a bee, overturning unkindly.
To pollinate rotten flowers of the taboo.

Once it sets its gaze, I get stuck in a daze!
Time ships away, single minded and ******!
Only know what’s in my face, blind to the rest, reality chucked.

Damage to divine creation, I will do.
In search of pleasure, without peace.
I’ve come undone.
At my soul I feel this demon chew.

Belief in sin is asinine.
But rationality forsaken me in this act.
Sin and shame, in truth combine.
I’m a ****** folly. I dress like a dollie.  

This act came serendipitous.
It found me like a drug.
It’s stayed tenacious.
Hasn’t left, like an addiction.
Vacuous, it’s ***** all my time, my creativity.

Emulate the other kind.
In nature of both body and mind.
I want to get ******.
And dress pretty.
Dress slutty.

I’m made of putty.
Shape me into whatever state of degradation.
Then I’ll please you with such admiration.
Only in search of ****** pleasure.
So confused, lost all measure.

When I release, I wake up.
reality flashes back in a flood.
Dressed in clothes I don’t belong in.
And toys of disgust and pleasure within.

Luckily I’m gagged, I would’ve thrown up.
But I shaved hairless like and infant,
Christ as helpless and just as foolish.
Only to reach a state of feminine cruelty.

I’m so ******* gross, **** me.
For being such destructive,
And greedy degenerate in these acts.
6d · 46
If you can’t find a familiar voice,
For gods sake, don’t argue.
Just give up and take an easy route.
Without a belt or needle,
Just a cable and a screen.
You’ll be able to shoot up on dopamine.

So easy to always seem right.
**** it, you don’t have to be bright!

The ease we have to escape strife,
Makes me want to steam clean my brain.
Bathe in disinfectant.
Let hand sanitizer be my imbibe.
Better yet bleach.

You can say anything.
Racist, sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, misandrist, dull, shallow, backstabbing, hateful, and malicious.
Go on the internet,
And find a for it.
Mar 26 · 111
Swipe Through the Meat
I just don’t want to be alone. Adrift away, walking astray, or isolated and in disarray.

I’ve yet to find someone who isn’t crippled by such a fright. We all know we need someone to hold tight.

Abridged from weeping, malady, and meaning.

Both comfortable with venturing cathartic jungles.
Someone to share an ineffable bond, and curl in bundles.

Not just a *******, dismissal, and ducking.

Stay around a while, make some memories to compile. And stop objectifying human beings.

Swiping left and right. Through the meat.

I feel so desperate to collaborate with the other kind. To be together, one mind.
The hate you keep inside won’t help you float.
But you cling to it, so below you.

Push it under you, to get above the waves.
But eventually the swell will drag you to hell.

Cling to it so below you.
It’s weight will stretch your arms.
Drag you down.

Down into the undertow. Against progress.
So vile, repugnant and insipid. You rot.
Your fingernails leave scars on hate.
You cling to it so.
But shout opposed to such accusation.

Now low enough the crash of the waves blind you.
Squinting through their spray, you struggle.
Treading in denial as you try to pull your hate to breast.

I’d reach out to you, if your hate wouldn’t drag us down together.
And we’d be clinging to something so below you.
Mar 24 · 69
Nothing New
If you have nothing new to say.
Nothing true to say.

Shut the **** up.

Stop feeding off of others words.
They got them from someone else’s plate.

We’ve all had a taste of them,
They’re on the ******* dollar menu.

I can’t stand hearing cheap ****,
Shut up and go take a hit.
Maybe in your daze,
You’ll find something amaze.

Then write about that.
Not something run over on the road.
Love’s practically flat.

I want to see a flash from a barrel,
And hear a bang from a muzzle.
Every ******* time I read a pseudo-love poem.

Put down the pen on love.
I’m ashamed of the poems I’ve writ about it.
Thinking I had knowledge of something so powerful.

If it’s real, you can’t put it into words.
Let it stay that way.
Don’t let a pen astray,
On something in an ashtray.

This bridge has been burned for too long.
The hate you keep inside won’t help you float.
But you cling to it, so below you.

Push it under you, to get above the waves.
But eventually the swell will drag you to hell.

Cling to it so below you.
It’s weight will stretch your arms.
Drag you down.

Down into the undertow. Against progress.
So vile, repugnant and insipid. You rot.
Your fingernails leave scars on hate.
You cling to it so.
But shout opposed to such accusation.

Now low enough the crash of the waves blind you.
Squinting through their spray, you struggle.
Treading in denial as you try to pull your hate to breast.

I’d reach out to you, if your hate wouldn’t drag us down together.
And we’d be clinging to something so below you.
Mar 23 · 189
Chained and Restrained
What is loved,
now is cumbersome to engage.

Some sort of lethargy resists my path.
Reaching a state of catharsis is draining now.

Not emotionally but physically.

Stuck in this house, with no way out.
Quarantined from a virus.
But I’ve come down with one that leaches my creativity.

Writing this poem is hard. It feels plastic.
Even though I’m writing clear what’s so elastic.

It stretches around me so true,
But when I speak it, it lies and makes me blue.

I need freedom to return to my soul.
And an inoculate to cleanse it of this toll.

These two ailments leave me,
Chained and restrained.
Mar 14 · 64
We are not Monsters
We are not monsters.
We’re more terrifying.
We are human:

Peeping on toil crouched, through cracked doors.
We always sink to new floors.

I don’t smoke, and it would be suicide.
But breathing that in beats bearing us at all.
We sting and **** like pesticide.
I hope we’re heading for a great fall.

All of us gathered on this rotisserie.
Lathered in a grease of turpitude.
Always in such disarray.
Our evisceration wouldn’t be so rude.

The beginning of the rest of our life.
Hopefully chalked to the brim in strife,
And more near than soon.
Should bring us a fitting moon.

If that wasn’t clear enough for you,
you ******* tool who can’t read a hue.
I want us to die, I want us to end.
So we can be cleansed of our malady.
So we can begin to find a blend.

One without awe in violence, and parody.
Who’s bitter taste creates our insipid existence.
I think we can find a future merrily.
And isn’t enjoyed just for an instance.
Mar 8 · 131
Are You Experienced?
Turtle in your shell,
reading a book or writing a tell.
Experience scared across your back.
‘Tis it a waste to wash in what’s fell?!

Stagnancy is hell.
Exploration, brings novelty.
Are chains made of poetry?

Be elegies you write, or dancing in meadows.
Your pen takes time,
and mortality slowly ticks to reality.
Is this how you want to spend, the last breath from your bellows?

Is it really worth its hold?
The relationship with time is abusive and finite.
Or tis it better to go out and be bold?
Make sure you don’t waste your limelight.

However, reflection is illuminating.
And one might find a place on stage with a mirror.
A gaze into which could change your fear.
To each his own, possibilities are enumerating.
Mar 7 · 184
Connected to Nobody
Disconnected, self destructive,
every moment alone and soon out of time.
Don’t desperately pull anything to breast.
But clocks run out, and panic will a set.

Hold your breath now, what’s the hurry,
these things cannot be forced.
Step on your toes, around this blushing rose.
Your stomping will bring the end of time.

Once distant, infancy blinded me.
I pushed you away, before so evilly.
Reality will wash away the falsify of order.
The fatuousness of lonesome is round the corner.

Ego and fear sublimated away!
I’ve seared you, now honest and vulnerable.
I hope this state can repair a path so dismal.
Constructed with puberal malice and discontent.
Apologies I can give, but actions scream.
Let me love incontinent.

Far too long, we’ve sat in complacence.
Now youth has boiled away we can see.
I’ve been dilating connection to a crony.
One I clench so profoundly.

Connected like roots to soil.
Far past our old toil.
Juxtaposed, we are paradoxical.
But we’re both connected to nobody.
You float so sweet like cereal.
But soon you’ll drown, that’s so surreal.

Live now in the light, while darkness lurks.
Destruction and loyalty is a virtue of the Turks.
Prosperity is always the one that irks.

When you sink, you’ll dry up and be bitter like salt.
Don’t be shy. Away you are from reality.
Of course you’ll say it’s not your fault.
You’re no longer in neutrality.

So close to the evil of indifference.
You’ve shook yourself loose.
In no mans land you stand, but with one in hand.
You’re now held tight in truce.

A peace in self, and with id unleashed.
A stand in true falsity, the chaos of mind.
Harmful your insides are released.
You’re so loose yet in a bind.

The incoherence of your unconscious.
Is so restraining.
But so loose you are to set it free.
You rise to a deep reality.
One that lays inside all.
And awakes outside, leading to a great fall.
Disconnect, disjoint, unified, detached, distant, afar, separate, divorced, abstracted sovereign, removed, apart.

There’s a feeling, I have between us.
And please do share if it’s mutual,
and please do share if it’s intentional.
But we’re whatever words you’d use to say,

If I shook your hand the urge to wash it,
would overwhelm you. Overcome you.
Control you.

This stench you contrive around me,
this taint I have upon my skin.
Is only in your eyes.
Wipe them clear or steep in your lies.

I’d love to connect with you, live with you, laugh with you.
But this separation, this gap you spread.
Isn’t in my best interest.
To be down right honest.
I don’t ******* care for it one bit.

The removal you push, is displeasing.
It’s un-easing.
******* sick of it.
Sick of wasting time on it.
100 years or less.
You push us apart, there’s no time for it.

You divide into cliques.
A pyramid’s not hard to climb,
you just have to be ignorant, and self loathing.
But you can rest easy, you’ve climbed to the tippy top.
Where reality escapes you, and your induced separation clings to you.
But you hold it as tight as it holds you.
I can leave you alone up there, But accept my pity for you in your:
Feb 20 · 296
Wasting Kids
Wasting my life.
Cause my time is so precious, ha!

Walking through my room,
the stench actually slows progress.
You feel it on your skin,
it thickens the air, increases drag.

They squirm on the floor.
I wipe them off my hands and stomach.

They might have had dreams, aspirations.
How ridiculous they’re just ejaculations.
I posses a value for life. But my children here.
I don’t feel anything for them, or without them.

Time ***** by.
Instinct, greed and something else win again.

This addiction doesn’t leave track marks,
***** spoons, or empty lighters.
But it does leave a stench, and little time.
It’s a **** I can’t get rid of. Literally.
It’s attached to me, I use it everyday in one way.

But **** it.
Whoops, phrasing...

I mean ***** it, school is in like 6 hours.
I feel relieved in one way. Now I have it onboard.
A nice big hit, of dopamine. Instantly.
There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
Once you find a set, put place, position and stand.
Work up the vitality to speak in brutality!
There’s no point to declare without defense.

I want to **** in the wind, because *******.
Replace my mind with a button.
Press it, I’ll regurgitate your rhetoric.
I bet you get off to that, stripping autonomy.
Just tickles your ******. Makes you giddy.

I’d starve myself.
But I would eat a bullet if you had your way.

Without a situation, your just without motivation.
Writing in clear ink,
paralyzed in double think.

There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
A set, put place, stand, or position.
Dissent should never be conveyed,
unclear, blurry, or in repent!

Opinion shouldn’t be followed by different!
Just stand in on stage, speaking sense!
Those that matter will respect,
others will fall to the aspect...
Help me here.
Cause I lie inside.
Only see what’s near.
What’s left is hide.

Confused and built up.
Tension and frustration.
Release the cup.
Healing and confusion.

Be me or be me?
Who is I? Who am me?
Distorted and contorted.
Invites mutilation.

Mutilation of human.
Mutilation of divine nature.
Of birth given beauty to all.
Self-gratification objectifies others.
It destroys what could be possible.

Confusion and disconnect.
Birthed from elementary curriculum.
Who am me? Who is I?
I is ***. Me is ***. You are ***.

Arises tension and frustration from such confusion and disconnect.

But I am me. And you is you.
And we are people.
Not ***.
But *** they show, they teach, they preach.
Safe ***, taught in 4th grade P.E.

Frustration in no connection.
Tension in confused definition.
*** is love? But it’s not. But they say so.
They’ve said so for so long.

At 15 finally a boy is able to thinks and feel abstractly.

I feel physical love.
But something in my chest makes me need.
It makes me need you.
And I don’t have words for it.

They’ve only made us objects of an equation.

The sum is ***.

So excuse this mutual confusion please.
I’m sure we can figure it out together.

This mysterious feeling in my chest.
Makes me need to wrap myself around you.
As you wrap around me.
Makes me need to pull you into me.
And feel you pull me into you.

So close that we leave our bodies behind.
And only have what really makes us.

You’ve helped me hear.
Cause we lied inside.
Only saw what’s near.
What’s left is pride.
Just  platonic. It’s so tonic
Complicate this world you leave for me.
Don’t run away from me!
Embrace my inevitability!

I’ll drag you toward me, if need be.
You can’t look at me?
Why do I terrify thee?

Claw at your existence desperately.
As I pull you to face me!
Drink me in and quench reality!

You can’t slow history!
Everyone is energy, temporarily.
Borrowed, it must be returned eventually.

But you struggled so falsely.
Your fingernails are so smelly.
What is it? It’s so unholy.

It stinks of the falsity.
That you clung to so desperately.
That you clawed at so desperately.
As I dragged you toward serenity.
Now go wash your hands with destiny!
Feb 13 · 362
I’ve fallen through a stage. Call it a phase, but I lay here sick. I don’t remember eating butterflies, but I need to purge. This loathing is my ailment. The misdirection of it, and the essence of it. But I’ve fallen out just know, and I realize that part of my spin is through. I can start a new.

I need someone too sink into me. I need her head, laid upon my chest. To hear her breath within mine, would be the best. Warm my cold loneliness, through her *******. Her beauty infests. Comfort me, as I spew, apostatize, and change view. Lay my hand upon her back, pull her tightly.

I’m not ready for, ***. Nor is my stomach ready to digest. I’m in need of comfort, a new mind in my head. Lonely and resent, replace and repent. I cry for help silently, I ignore my weeps. Stand in nothing, take no action too. I need her arms around me, weak and feebly. I’ll sink into her arms, melt into infancy. I need to be alone with someone else, besides me.

Hear my cry, weakly. I’ve never been with someone, feeling.
Feb 13 · 131
Liars Sing Falsity
Pain speaks truth, so does love.
Singers raise their voice above.
Not only to converse, but to express,
a sleeping beauty in distress.
A diamond under modest flesh, eyes and breath.
Given out with passion, to eyes ears and those at breast.
To flame thought from its shine, weather mine and without fine.

Liars sing too, in choirs of deceit and malady.
Their tenors to their sopranos mundane.
So they flee to song in order to fabricate glee.
They pile notes beneath their feet, to rise above the fleet.
They’ll just as soon pile their fellow members,
as they would the audience below them.
At whatever cost it takes to fly, they’ll pay.

Flight however is true, and eventually lies fall.
Wings built of plastic are sure not the call.
Reparations will be met at the terminal.
For those who lied above all.
But even on the ground, they’ll sing.
They believe their lies so deeply,
their contrived melodies are reality.
If you don’t like their composure, then dip your ear’s shoulder.
But find medical consolation, if deception and lies bring you anything but butterflies.
Feeling emphatic about it, not nearly ecstatic about it, sick of the static about it.
My disposition about it.
Impotent and unfit around it.
I’ve yet to be deflowered, and bound around it.

Love doesn’t escape me, I’ve never found it.
Terrified of the hunt and to bound round it.
Sickening feeling of being desperately unfit,
Or fooling out words ill, dealing a faulty hit.
Abandons me balled and crippled deep a pit.

So below all the others that’ve found it.
I weep like a widow, from the fear I’ve of it.
Being behind and unable to climb out the pit.
Unable to recover, and set it a lit.

I drool over girls, and daydream about it.
Not *******, just connection, not a ***.
Overthink and cherish common chat spoke bit.
Cause contact very scarce with the opposite.

Used to be able to ignore the itch till it quit.
Now it won’t seek absence, I can’t scratch it.
Not without a better half to help quench it.
I’ve been quarantined from it.
Around friends but so alone I must hold it.

Not one to share my depths to within it.
Not one to grasp or be grasped around it.
I can’t escape shriveling inside while I sit.
Thin drive, all dried up, apathy uproots it.

The bean’s growth makes me need it.
Need stalked so high, I’m in orbit.
No idea how to approach it.
I’ve known no one deeply or because of it.
Been alone for 18 years, I see no end of it.

So examine me an alien, as I continue to float farther away from first contact, with no research or knowledge to communicate with the opposite.
Dec 2019 · 137
Synthetic Compliments
I claw and drool for social acknowledgement.

I’m so blind by the drive, I’m not disgusted by the animal I am and others I admire.

Degrading and defacing myself in the process.

Leave a compliment, for attention and false exchange of treatment.

I hold my phone incapable of moan.

This thing.

It doesn’t care about me.

Neither do the people on it.

My family does.

But I must find acceptance from my peers.
I have to steal their eyes and ears.
They do it, so I must too.
Throw away all my integrity, of which there is few.
She awoke that morning, just a little bit *****.
Though coitus slept aside her, to awake for sure.
Connected deeply, they concocted within her.

They loved in waiting. Nurturing mating.

She broke down in mourning.
Just two months early, was an end surely.
Suddenly it’s over, he can’t see but sober.
Schism in grief, surely gave them no peace.

The only thing birthed, were fraternal twins of pain.
Both of the same origin, but fertilized within a different sane.

He can’t vicariously be her, his lack of expressed emotion erode for sure.
Blocked empathy, sat in store to mold.
Building within, and different but akin.
Grew a pain far to much to hold.

Losing someone for they share, and held endless care.
Made of her hair, and his eyes.
Lost to a stolen breath, for which the thief was not in ties.
Drove her into confusion, just another word for her delusion.
Ohhhh you can lead a frown.
But don’t expect your crown.
For we’re not easily snowed.
Cause we know you’re  known.
Tough, you can pick a fight. Ha.
Weak, you are insecure.
We. Know. Who you are.

Please, be back soon.
Honesty. Awaits you.
Generous, we like to be.
So gracious, we should see.
You Lie, behind your back. Foolish.
We. Know. Who you are.

Ohhhh, you can lead a sin.
But all equal, and forgiven’
Seek, halfheartedly.
You’ll only exist, and die existentially.
For we know you’re known.
Feel, free to be.
Reality, you can’t see.
We. Know. Who you are.

Embrace, humanities.
Disgrace in your humanity.
But who are we to judge you?
And to say what we say is true?
Leave in distaste, find a new pace.
For who are we to strike you down?
You do that to yourself anyway.
Nov 2019 · 697
Sunrise Over Sin
I see the sunrise over sin,
Repress what I did once again.
Shadows me like its prey,
Lurching out of me eagerly.

I see the sunrise over sin,
It’s boiled over once again.
Scolding from white hot shame,
My guilt has the power to lame.

I see the sunrise over sin.
Push it down before it begin.
The moon rise over blame,
She brings clarity and aim.

I see the sunrise over sin,
Connects us all a kin.
Judge others harshly without perceptivity,
Ignorant of the hypocrisy.

I see the sunrise over sin,
Should **** someone but who’s in?
Let’s all perish together again,
Cleanse this place of our contagion.

I see the sunrise over sin.
Let’s live samsara again.
Improve from the last time.
Not just a rhyme.
Nov 2019 · 148
Hate Fucking
Oh stomach.
Gorged and below,
A black thumping.

Pump my hate through,
Before it comes dumping.

Oh vestal.
Ravaged by lust,
incontinent *******.

**** thine shame through,
My black thumping.

Oh heart.
Limp in platonic,
Just beating.

Cast my shame into,
Innocent uncaring.

Oh feeble.
Who’s worse though,
In this *******?

Banish this urge through,
Hate *******.

Oh silence.
Alone and withering,
Just slumping.

Weep this away through,
Self hating.
Nov 2019 · 162
Descend into refraction before me, bewildered like a ******. Exist as a flunkey, and myopic.

Everything I’ve existed, all of a sudden lifted and sifted. Leaving residue not historic.

Originating from neglect of the forthcoming. All I’ve learned and would learn.

Dissolve from this.

I do not like this great dissolution, but I accept it, swallowing my actions too late.

So fall to pieces, and bring a reset of samsara.

Dissolute all I’ve known and would.

Only due to my ignorance.

I’ve brought destruction.

I deserve struggle.

As it falls away.

Into nothing.

I become.


I was.




Nov 2019 · 163
No Change in Sight
Stagnant and thinking

Confused and blinking

Age draws on

Yet still a pawn

Standard and simple

Dull and wimple

Wrapped in indifference

Trapped warm desire

In need of deliverance

If I come un-strewn

May I be blessed in womb

Re-birthed and open

More accepting and woken

New insight could dislodge this anchor

Only I can treat my own lamer

Once in motion

Loneliness is in emaciation

Finding friends in exploration

Finding one for intimacy

Not based on elegancy

Venerate character

Each must love the other entire

Both exchanging devotion and tenderness

Only full of equality, truth, and openness

Nurture platonic love, beautiful and scarce

Defend it like a dove, only vicious and fierce
Oct 2019 · 263
Inebriated in Physics Class
I am a bee
I’m flying around and can see

No one is searching for a mirrored perspective
Just buzzing like me, serving themselves busy like a bee.

Might as well just call them all id. Destructive.
No human in them to dehumanize. Just like me, cause I’m a bee.

They’re so abysmal, they **** the life from their surroundings. They become black holes, and **** me out of flight.

We’ve murdered platonic love in its housing.
We strive for coitus killing joyous. Sadly platonic love is too intense to fight.

Within this darkness they’ve absorbed me in, we rot together as equals as it should be. If only we could all help each other be in lightness.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Drop acid. Bzzzzzzzzzz. **** each other. Bzzzzzzzzz. Care for no one. Bzzzzzzzzzz. Seek self fulfillment.

All of us buzzing. Uninterested in love, just *******.

We cannot advance leaving our siblings behind. We either grow and love together, or we rot in turgid avarice, apathy, and unsound complacence.
Oct 2019 · 141
Stagnant and Intumescent
Halted and tainted.


Derived from isolation.

Shameful resent, and painful lament, birth exploration of the intimate.


Desperate to drown out the desolate.

Ethereal vitality, lonely and vestal.

Accept all without stall.

Vulnerable and platonic.

In need of deep loving clasp.

An invite to settle my weariness upon thy shoulder.

Someone to open my neck toward without smolder.

The moon reflects upon me.

Truth is intimacy.

If overpassed, you’re in infancy.

Simple and faded, adorable, but deplorable.

Let’s inundate our emptiness together.
Oct 2019 · 249
Dancing Around Blocks
I.             Feel.            Sorrow.       And       Blame.

Live       Mundane,       Die           Insane.

Dumb    Head            To(o)          Lame   Truly.    ­              

And,      Too               Swelling.     I’m      Useless

Dull!       Insane.        Hollow:       My       Brain.
Sep 2019 · 383
Fuck My Ass
Control me
I’m sick of playing man

Get close to me
I like it

Let me feel weak
Make me feel weak

I lock myself in society
Act my part, it disgusts me.
Make me soft
So lock me in chastity
Release and degrade me.

Withering away
I seek reality. I want to find me and,
Enjoy myself. So **** me.

I want to be weak with someone who will support me.


I want to care with someone.
I want to care for someone.

I’m so confused.

The longer the better,

Please hold me...
Sep 2019 · 341
Send Nudes
Get beneath your peers
Crawl while in tears.
Drown inundated by consequential shame. Cause you’re the only one to blame.
Your avarice for ****** release isn’t natural.
You’ve conditioned yourself to be this abysmal.
Let your cries resonate, impregnate, and eradicate within you. A morning sickness derived from truth you will succumb to. While this truth grows and evolves within you, it will evacuate your lies behind your truth.

Sullen loneliness withers you, it’s created a monster.
One that pines for intimacy without foster.
Through this eagerness, a dull misunderstanding festers.
One where intimacy is strictly ******.
And it’s enjoyed alone on a phone, ha. How intellectual!
But the primordial need, sets you in greed.
Clear thinking leaves you, and desire is left only true.

However this brief inhuman act of disgusting ****, leaves you in a tut.
With rational thinking back after release. You’re trapped without peace.
Loneliness floods back, and on the attack, charges self reflection, without affection.
You don’t deserve affection. Just affliction.
So you grow ill from your actions.
Don’t stop this introspection. Self disgust is appropriate. So don’t take an ******.

Tenacious pithy feelings will raise your ceilings.
Embrace this self loathing. The shame will strip you of clothing. Now true to yourself and the world, unpolished and furled.
You can act on embellishments, and ignore wants and irrelevance.
Sep 2019 · 224
Numb, dead skin
Dumb, head in

Isolation withers you
Insecurity is idiotic

Find, yourself
Hiding, from health

Social interaction
Will give you traction

Swim, into
Dig, you fool

The undertow drowns you
Reincarnation awaits you

Lose, your shell
Binding, you in hell

Venture out of vacuum
And without presume

Shyness is repulsive

Enlightenment, awaits you
Selfless, and too true

Adhere, to the collective
Powerful, and perspective

Connect with others
Help without stutters

Samsara, is a chance
Not, a trance

So help each other
Venerate and gather

Moon, sits waiting
Her, confidant scintillating

She’ll tell her secrets
Without regrets

Only, if we conquer the three poisons
Tonic, clean, and pleasant, like soissons
Get up
And **** me

Punishment for wasting

Punishment for dulness


I’m blinded by desire

Blinded by lust

Is my Dream

The only way I’ll take it

Is now and neat

Is repulsive

It makes me shake and gag

Wasting time
Relieves me

Oh **** I got a head rush

Falling from the hit

I feel a sense of dread

Void of struggle

Leads to emptiness

And muddle

I fail to employ this knowledge

And smolder in video games

In YouTube

And *******

Do everyone a favor

I’m insipid and useless

Make it slow and forever

Painful and selfless

******* **** me

I’ve neglected the preciousness of time
Sep 2019 · 225
Get up. And kill yourself.
Seek so intently
Fight it so invently

It lies to everyone
It lies in everyone

Seek so intently
Fight it so gently

Ego is resentful
Ego is repugnant

Seek so intently
Criticize pithily

Open mindedness

Seek so intently
Explore curiously

Or pine for meaning
In you’re prison cell

stay so fetal
You’ll stay so fertile

Until you venture
Past your hurdle
With a great hurtle
Aug 2019 · 228
I am so alone.
I’ve never actually been with another.

I have a close friend.

But I yearn for intimacy with a female.

Within extended pauses.

This lingering feeling.

Rises from its hole.

And finds me up through the undertow.

Bewildering me with a chasm of alienation.

And shrouding me in its dismal light.

I let myself foolishly steep in it.

Until I am saturated with my own self pity.

As pity rots away it turns to anger.

And I decay into a more disgusting person.

One who self loathes. The root of my problem.

How can one love if they don’t love themself.
Aug 2019 · 126
Happy Sad.

It’s not a great feat to conjure happy writing or happy experiences

Mostly everyone is completely able bodied to do so.

Writing dark just gathers attention and is so much easier to write due to relativity.

When something feels good. It blends in with mundanity. When something hurts. It stands out.

Attention seeking is ******. Vacuous is one who engages in such activities.

Therefore I will write a happy poem...

I’m about to eat a steak.
In a cabin that was built in the 20s.

It had the first flushing toilet in sublet county.

I climbed today, nothing difficult. But it was very enjoyable above Fremont lake.

Now, sitting here on this ancient deck. In utter silence besides the Birds. I don’t feel accomplished. I feel comfortable. I can’t and don’t have anything to prove.

It’s only been an adventure. Starting out with rolling my friends Jeep. And then not telling his father. But rolling it back over with a sketchy high lift jack setup as a winch.

I can’t really see any point in holding onto grudges. But honestly I know they’ll come back as soon as I get back to civilization. That disgusts me about myself. I enjoy the bliss of being without malice, however I do not avoid it beholding me again even after self reflection.

How pitiful.
Aug 2019 · 168
Nice Big Dose of Sadness
Alone watching tv
Contrasting my self image against characters I envy

I Eventually find emptiness
Who would’ve thought

Quickly but calmly
A bottle of interned coping serum is entombed in the freezer

Minutes go by and I almost forget to take my first dose of the night

But contrasting brings back my thirst

It used to taste terrible

Now it’s bearable

In a few minutes I’m done with the putrid beverage and cool more in the freezer

They go down as painfully as the last one

They’ve done nothing for me but make me feel more infected with loneliness, physically ill, and morbid.

This only set upon me more a more dismal state of mind

And it leaves me full of liquid sadness
Feel me

Branch out

You live


You’re a charlatan

Who dwells

One sidedly

Dark sidedly

Think you spew vitriolic criticism

Just abysmal blabber

You’re like an infant without wonder

You’re a void for joyousness

You’re incontinent of your blabber

Of your verbal feces

And vile thoughts

Read the room

We’re sick of your ****

The only depth you have

Is how low you make everyone

You’re so dismal

Break free

From your own restraints

And you can scintillate

Beauty can always root

Where horridness once dwelled
Jun 2019 · 265
A man born of nothing
Likewise from everything.
Came from no where
Yet somewhere.
A man who clutches freewill
But has no voice.
He is of every hue
And whom his coitus is specific
And undefined.

He walked the earth by choice.
Conversed with whom he wished.
And lived how he saw fit.

However a calling came for some heroes of his clique.
And he was drawn or he volunteered.

Rough this path was to be
And rough it turned out.

As the path grew darker
The man grew darker.
He partook, inflicted, and observed such unimaginable cruelty. It could only be imagined.

The cruelty was real.
It made him feel so real.
So connected.
Primitive and so developed.

Until he found his breaking point.
Seeing something so terrible it was definitely real.
His eyes wore scars that only faded in the later years of his life.
But he would remember the scene to the exact detail forever.

The path got brighter. So did the man.
But the man was always not as gleeful as his surroundings.
He like so many of his fellow hero’s got stuck in the past sometimes.
Going back to when the path wasn’t so bright.

He lived the rest of his life in peace. Had a family. Fought for the right things with what voice he had.

One day he returned to the most horrific battlefield he once stood on as a soldier.
A man his age, but of the enemy’s looks gazed at him.

An unspoken barrier would always separate them.
But these two were as close and as far as brothers.

They shared a glance so deep only warriors could read it. Roughly translated it said, “All of that is done and gone with. I’ll love you for sharing my memories. I’ll hate your for the bad ones.” Then they went their ways and lived out their days in harmony with hatred and sadness.

Only men like them will ever really be truly human. Living on either side of the spectrum of good and evil for your entire life is fictional. Truth is only found in equilibrium. Humanity is only found in the duality of Devine beauty and incomprehensible darkness.
Claw a bit closer to me
Embrace my malevolent ability
This will help you feel a reality

You feel so safe without wonder
But pine for authenticity
As you rot inundated by false benevolence
You live in such gleaming
It’s insanity

I’ll pluck you from this numbness
By fogging your false sun with a dismal filter
And I’ll *******

I am not what you expected?!
I am not what you wanted?!
I am truth. What you pine for idiot
I am tonic
I will make you feel something real

You’re scared of such a fiend
Only because you smolder in this apathetic medium

I’ll make you uncomfortable
I’ll make you feel like ****
A relief from your dystopian existence
This dissonance will wake you from your slumber

You will gulp from my malice
It will quench your thirst for authenticity
You will feel emotion
You will feel hatred
You will feel bitter sadness
You shall no longer be vestal like your peers

After I deflower you of such “innocence”
You will no longer mime false emotions
You will venerate happiness
You will cherish sympathy
Because you’ve been uncomfortable
And you’ve been in vacuous darkness

You like darkness.
You need it.
It makes the light more dear to you
In fact.
It illustrates your reality with such a fine and tenacious brush
That if it were replaced. You’d be blinded by the blurry falsity it leaves in its absence

For the sake of reformation
Don’t return to ingesting insipid entertainment
Don’t return to experiencing life through media
Digest honest art. Not pretentious art.
Not dull art either
You’ll live much happier

And I won’t have to violate you again my lamb
Apr 2019 · 504
Nazi Nutrients
Within this constriction
We define perfection

Perfection is subjection
Subjective is perfection

Dangerous is the definition
Disheartening is the caused segregation

Segregation then leads to dehumanization
Dehumanization brings a solution

A final solution

All from the definition
Of perfection
Of attraction

How beauty is the chaperon
For destruction

Is a cyclic maceration
Of the human condition

How repugnant and inane

Future and past is inundated by a dismal shroud

To be perfect is to accept those who possess your idea of imperfection

Stay open minded, avoid apathy, seek the uncomfortable

Let’s break the cycle
Mar 2019 · 2.3k
Rubber Room
Stuck in a straight jacket
That detaches from humanities
That disables civilized thinking
It strangles your insides
And steals compassion
And your breath of life
Withers inside this chasten

In this rubber room
Who’s pads make up your apathetical existence
You rot here like the ***** you take
You die here
Unless you bleed yourself of disrespect
Unless you bleed yourself of disinterest
Unless you bleed yourself of narcissism

Who cares
Your worthless in this state anyway
Find purpose in empathy

Or die here
Exist out of the minds of others
Others who have collective respect
Collective understanding
Collective empathy
And open mindedness

You’re locked here cause you prejudge
Guarded by your own stubbornness
You don’t accept
That you don’t know everyone’s story
You can’t know
You judge anyway

That hippie over there
He’s not a ***** loser
He has a family he loves
Worked hard in construction
And overcame a destructive alcohol and drug abuse
He’s better than you
He’s empathetic
And embraces everyone
Got caught up in my disgusting mind. How ***** I am. Judging people I know nothing about. I hate it. Pathetic.
Spill your sickening contradictions.
Try to snow those you perceive as weak.
Distract us with your predictions.

Hide crucial evidence for “sterilization”.
To numb the populous and make them weep.
Spill your sickening contradictions.

Preach what you don’t practice, it’s just operations.
Invoke decree, and let it steep.
Distract us with your predictions.

The poor are there for your oppression.
Smile and wave, lock evil in your keep.
Spill your sickening contradictions.

You “speak for the weak”. What fiction!
We’ve been snowed by those who steep.
Distract us with your predictions.

You repugnant charlatans.
Snow is with your projections.
Spill your sickening contradictions.
Distract is with your predictions.
Mar 2019 · 147
About a Dream
This seemingly ancient machine dances in front of me.

Composed of sandstone and so unsoiled it’s beautiful.

Running under no power.

Under ultimately strict order yet so peaceful and free.

Upon its belt are people seemingly so familiar yet unidentifiable.

It’s belt spirals and twirls up from its darker origin.

It’s destination is unknown but seems an eternity away.

That length in time does not cause anxiety and I somehow maintain a sense of immense peace.

As it ascends, it’s path lightens in tone.

I am in the middle of the light and dark.

Looking upon a pillar of sandstone indescribably tall.

Atop  it in the center of the spiral at my eye level.

Seems to be a Greek goddess formed of gold with wings and a spear at ease.

The belt winds around in its spiral continuing its production of some sorts.

I do not fear the dark nor do I strive for the light.

From the middle as a spectator.

I feel unbearably safe in both spectrums light and dark.

To descend or ascend.

In the middle as a spectator.

I feel such a wave of love and warmth I am unable to describe. It was truly elegantly Devine.

And I am not one to call himself religious.

I feel such a sense of embrace and acceptance for an unknown subject, that I wish I could continue my slumber.

As it is really enlightening to be able to accept something so undeniable and absolute.

I want more of that feeling.

I don’t dream often, but how blissful this is.

I feel I am undeserving of such beauty and so grateful for it, even if my mind contrived it in my hibernation.

Then only blanketed in one sheet.

I am stripped away from this elegance I have done nothing to deserve the chance to observe.
Into a cold room, with the miasma of teen spirit and reality.
About a dream I had last night that I couldn’t stop thinking about all day. I felt so amazing during this dream. So complete and understanding and warm I had to express it.
Mar 2019 · 287
Every Porn Ever
Popped in a Rollins band lyric
I have a lust for rightcheousness and luxury
Help me
Help me
Help me
Dig deep
Dig deep
Dig deep
corner ego it’s turgid.
And **** it.
Must cleanse myself of this evilness.
The corpse reeks of malice.
Without it the breath of my soul is aromatic.
Must crucify possessive vocabulary.
I want
I need
Hang them on a cross of selflessness.
Nail them with actions of helpfulness.
Forget narcissism.
Forget avarice.
Forget being vitriolic.
How unbearably odious my behavior has been.
I apologize as sincerely as I can.
After all we are all cursed being human.
All my faults only show how weak I am.
Through reflection I have shed light on the faults I am capable of revealing.
Yet I have not sought action.
That’s how weak I am.
“I need help” I say.
But the first step of healing.
One does by themselves.
Seek help.
I sit here lethartically.
Thinking help will come to me.
I’m so tenaciously idiotic.
To make things worse.
I grow impatient and annoyed that help hasn’t found me.

I realize this.
And I’m so week that still. I won’t do anything about it.
I won’t seek help after writing this.
I might think I will or think I do.
But it’s either two lazy a cry or not one at all.
I am repulsive. Yet to blind to accept it as the divine truth it actually is.
I say I know myself.
I do. But I don’t actually embrace truth as confronting as it is.
It would help me.
I’m to lazy to face that though.
To scared.
So I slither back into my pitiful narcissistic chasm.
Like so many of my self involved peers.
We all realize it. We resent it.
But for now it’s a part of us.
Jesus Christ.
I blame it on my personality
funny, but romantically inept in using it
Smart, but overbearing
Curious, but boundless in exploration
All of these are virtues I have but cannot manipulate.
It haunts me. I hate myself.

Introspection invites pain
Introspection invites healing

I am a gutless fool.
I wallow in excuses.
“I never have the opportunity to talk to her”
Make them.
“I’m not good enough for her”
She stares at you in class.

I love that feeling.
Whenever our eyes meet.
My heart drops. And so does my stomach.
It feels like the floor beneath me.
For that split second. Falls away. It scares me.
Inviting us both into our own world of benevolence.
A flash I wish could be eternity.
Then our gazes dash away just as quickly as they collided.
“Did she notice?”
“Did he notice?”

We “flirted” a lot in 7th grade.
Then we’re separated by schedule.

Didn’t matter.
My pea sized mind...
It couldn’t fathom or even comprehend love.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
I hope you still might want me.

English assignment: write a soliloquy about a personal decision.
I write one about my in complacence and unsureness of sharing my opinion.
You write one about dying your hair blue.
Through your short work you’re funny and shy.

Oh my ******* god. I adore you to death.

At the end you show a stick figure drawing of you next to a college with blue hair.
Labeled: me in college with blue hair.
******* goofy.
I absolutely love it.

If you had blue hair I wouldn’t care.
You’d still be jaw dropping.
Though it would match your eyes.
You have the most gorgeous blue eyes in the entire world.
I literally could get lost in them forever.
They’re so...
Deep like I try to make my poems.


Anything I create though could not be as exquisite.
An ecstasy one could die from.

I feel so creepy reflecting on your looks without you knowing. Like I’m stalking you in my mind?

I haven’t flirted since that math class we shared.
I’m afraid I’m rusty. Dilapidated.
I would say something that would push you away.


I tap your shoulder.
Be hypnotized by your eyes and stand there.


And the sweat.
My palms would be moister than an oyster.
I’d be beet red.
My voice would quiver.
And boom. It’s awkward for both of us.

Awkward can be nice. Just.
At appropriate times.

I’m so weak.
I have no map to a reservoir of strength.
I have no courage to confront you.
I desperately want it.
I need assistance in acquiring it.

I’m a curious guy.
Always looking for adventure in books etc.
But I’m haunted by adventuring toward you.
I see a treacherous path that with one mistake.
I die.

If I make no mistakes.
I win a prize I see myself as undeserving of.

So excuses I make.
And withering inside I drool over you.

We both never talk to the other ***.
I want to talk to you.
And I think you might want to talk to me.
But I block our mingling through fear I cannot control even if it might benefit us both.

I need help.
I’m afraid of getting help.
Then I’d try something and mess up.

Oh my god. Help me.
Thanks if you read it. I’ve never felt this way about someone for so long. I do not know how to approach this. It’s so uncomfortable to me.
Through my own tyrannical enforcement
I spew insipid scripted statements
I do not support nor enjoy.
Afraid to be aberrant
Oppressed I am pushed to lecture repugnant contradictions against my own disposition.
Turgid loathing of the fear of dropping the expected facade
Supported by ego and enforced by group-think to mold a homogenous majority.
I hate self pity.
Here marinating in my own self indulgent sorrow.
I am a hypocrite.
Another one of my enemies.
But weakened by forcing myself to state the opposite of what I value,
I open myself to further self destruction.
Through this introspection I might be able to reclaim my social autonomy.
Possibly at the cost of diminution of social impression.
That is held at such divine standards today.
I might become a social martyr.
But at least I’d die complete and confident in my own voice.
It would open me to ridicule.
But I’d rather understand myself and be subjected to hate than to live objectively in a self confined contrived reality.
Mar 2019 · 1.2k
Rubbed Rawng
Incontinence of Pseudo-emotion has engulfed us from the 3rd grade.
It festered dormant for a little under a decade before it’s vessel popped.
A pore filled with ***** media which dehumanizes and objectives human beings
While making a spectacle and esteem of being promiscuous.
All that Dirt
Lathered in an oil of misdirection. A misunderstanding of affection, empathy and apathy.
Those who contrive the most emotion are perceived as actually possessing the most emotion.
Nothing can be farther from the truth.
This is the death of morality. A birth of Nihilism.
The miasma of the rotting corpse of ethos and emotional connection.
Is one that sits in the stomach and contracts illness not curable due to our understanding.
We have been taught that promiscuity will bring us happiness, and yet it is the most depressing.
Without understanding of that we are incurable from this ugly affliction.
Momentary bursts of relief chafe the most sensitive areas of our skin. Without treatment.
We will be encased in our handmade carapace which will indefinitely block us from emotion.
Luckily someone invented lotion, soft tissues, and silicone.
Mar 2019 · 155
Naturally Equivocate
One of the thickest shields we guard our egos with is one forged of brittle facade.

In-group, we sling our shields on our backs barricading our collective intentions and feelings that connect us.

Out-group, our shields are presented. Behind it we read off concealed truth engraved magically on the back of our facade.

We perceive losing our shield as a pathway to social death. We will be ridiculed, challenged, and sought after in hatred and disgust.

Thick but fragile. Our shield’s composition is easily seen through. But out of mutual insincere dictation from our facades, both parties ignore the barricade.

If we put down our defenses and toked out-group like we did in-group our collective mind would be broadened.

The now in-achievable would become effortless. A call back...

Blemmy Monster: “To bad most aren't willing to give up what they treasure most (ego). The acreage of Real discovery and accomplishment is a fertile, vestal place with unimaginable possibilities. Hopefully one day we will come together and parade through its pastures and meadows as one.”
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