Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jonathan Benham Jan 2018
An ardent following,
superseded by disdain
that comes like the aligned
sadism brought by you.
Feel like a failure?
Like the weapons in your brain
have finally run out of power and
that they were fabricated
from day one.
Feel like a failure?
Not yet?
You will never find a joy in
A brusque portrayal of success.
Because you have failed.
They will find out eventually.
They all will.
The trickster is not the manipulator.
You joke.
You are envious, envious of
others, how superficial!
Just like you want to be,
because you fail to elaborate
upon your own promises.
You surrender to the gift
that is moving on.
Just like anyone else!
How could someone like you fall so flat?
High functioning, or lack thereof.
You can fool the weak,
but so can any glimmer of hope.
Superimpose your lies
as you run out of time
and play the demi
in order to fornicate with
the incessant drive rather than
the polished joy that is success.
Move on.
You are a failure.
You are beginning to run out of options,
your only option is surely deceit.
Manipulators driven by the harrowing
sense that tomorrow will bring
inner motivation for another
night of fulfillment.
You, my friend,
are no different.
You resort to illusion because
you cannot create your own world.
You will die by the hands of  another.
Another just like you.
Weak and powerless in the eyes
of those who a greater
than your desire
of
being as great.
Jonathan Benham Jan 2018
I patiently catastrophize
the boisterous morning that will follow.
A day, like today, mourning, in a tentative morning.
I knew they were there, but,
how much can they deny me sensation before they
clamor and destroy what is left inside?
An ego idealized by the being of passion.
Driven, to a harrowing morning.
Mourning.
Polish the idea that this is safe,
that this is meant to be.
Crumble into insanity at night.
Mourn the morning afterwards.
This is existence?
A mind incapable of compartmentalization.

— The End —