Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 2d Nobody
Roy3
flaws
 2d Nobody
Roy3
fat,
rolls of fat,
skin,
filled with scars,
heart,
about to explode,
hurt,
i hurt,
everyone around me,
im hurt,
'cause i dont mean to,
yet i still do,
i look in the mirror,
disgust is allll i see,
fat, scars, pain,
a pile of rotted flesh,
trying to do the impossibe,
look and feel better.
.... Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Minute
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Hour
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 12 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 16 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Day
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 3 Days

Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 30 Seconds
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Minute
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Hour
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 8 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 12 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Day
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 5 Days

Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 30 Seconds
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Minute
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Hour
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 12 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Day
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days 17 Hours 13 Minutes

Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 30 Seconds
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Minute
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Hour
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 12 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Day
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 2 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 3 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 4 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Months 3 Weeks 2 Days

Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 30 Seconds
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Minute
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Hour
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 12 Hours
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Day
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 2 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 3 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 4 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 5 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Week 6 Days
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 1 Week
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 2 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 3 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Month 4 Weeks
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 5 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 6 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 7 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 8 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 9 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 11 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 1 Month
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 2 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 3 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 4 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 5 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 6 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 7 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 8 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 9 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 10 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 1 Year 11 Months
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 2 and a Half Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 3 and a Half Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 and a Half Years
Time Since I've Cut Myself: 4 Years 9 Months 16 Days 11 Hours

.... Reset

Time Since I've Cut Myself: 10 Minutes

You've done it a hundred times before
But just when you thought the day would come
When you'd lose track of time
You'd forget when it was
And you wouldn't have to count anymore
You thought you were free of it
You'd made it far enough
You thought you'd gone long enough
You thought it was over....

You fall right back to zero.
Maybe me calling my problem a problem is the problem.
Thoughts before I go to bed.
Nothing judges more than the mirror positioned above your bathroom sink. The same mirror in which you stand in front of every morning trying to figure out why God couldn’t have made you differently, and of course, attempting to do it for yourself. The same mirror in which you perceive yourself uglier the longer the bathroom light stays on and the very mirror keeping you from flashing your smile upon leaving the room.

It scoffs as you plaster on just enough makeup to make sure people don’t see how you really look, smirks as you search for every piece of unwanted fat, cheers as you proclaim it’s no use trying anymore, and laughs as your tears land in the porcelain sink because then it knows it has won yet again, a victory that costs opponent’s dignity and sense of self-worth.

Confidence can be destroyed in the mere seconds it takes for the reflective screen to lock onto the stranger approaching it, you. Who you are inside is affected first, yet heals last, apparent in the narrow scars found on millions of limbs throughout the world and the too-many empty bodies who ultimately decided who they were at one time was not worth waiting to find out who they were going to be. A concept so disturbing because the pain is caused by the seemingly insignificant object in the smallest room of the house.

The evidence of how much one is affected is a disease on its own, following the infected throughout the day from one mirror to the next until they are finally left standing in front of the very mirror they began their day at. The disease is not a product of imagination, something used as an excuse, or a joke. A large result of our current recession, each and every obsession, the disease known as, depression.

Depression is the lonely man next door holding a gun to his head while weighing the pros and cons of living. As of recent, the cons have outnumbered the pros yet he can’t allow his finger to squeeze the trigger because although the pros are outnumbered, they are still not outweighed.

Depression is the girl across the street slitting her wrists due to the torture she endures every day. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is because everyone tells her otherwise, so she ends her days by staining her carpet red in an attempt to forget everything they say.

Depression is the drug addict willing to try any drug that makes him happy. When asked why he risks his life on thin white lines and sharp crystals he claims it’s worth the risk because a couple hours of happiness is better than none at all.

Depression is the **** victim who can no longer trust because one night a man decided to sprinkle powder in her drink just to make sure his “needs” were met. She has to learn to love again due to a single night gone wrong.

Depression is the woman who just had her third miscarriage who is surrounded by mothers choosing to end their baby’s life before they get a chance to experience what that life has to offer. She can’t seem to figure out why so many escape from something she has wanted for so long.

Depression is the homosexual man who prays to God in wonder of why he was made that way. He is endlessly ridiculed for a decision he did not make and only strives for the same love everyone else seeks. Those certain of his path after death forget the same book declaring this fate also wishes for all to love one another and not doing so will result in the path they feel he is destined to go down.
Call it exaggeration, but a world rid of bathroom mirrors could equal a world rid of self-affliction. A world rid of pinpointing the imaginary problem and the tears following the realization that these problems cannot be fixed. Most importantly, it would rid the world of the belief that you are not good enough.

The next time you look in your bathroom mirror I ask you to look past all the disappointments and missed opportunities. Look past all the misconceptions you have ever had about yourself, because through that you will see someone willing to overcome every obstacle and take on every joy. If you still don’t see that person then look again, because bathroom mirror fog always clears up when you wait long enough.
A spoken-word poem about how we see ourselves in the mirror. Check out the video of my piece on YouTube: Bathroom Mirror Poem
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, *******, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of *******," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, *******, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"******* you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"******* you, woman," I said from the bed, "******* you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, *****, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, *******! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than *******. There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "******* YOU, YOU *******
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
 4d Nobody
Jo
Silver-tipped arrogance
The way to a fool's heart
I should know

The fool.
 4d Nobody
Jo
Thorns entangled
Even the loveliest of roses
Won't let go

Red paints this sky
A dull hue
Please, bleed into my eyes

Bruised, broken and buried,
I love you.
 4d Nobody
Jo
Let me be lost, let me be found
Let me be cast aside, let me be treasured
One day, for the slightest of moments,
Grant me this blessing.

Let my weary bones rest, let my tired eyes close,
For a moment of peace,
Let me rest.

Once, I am lost into the abyss of darkness, a stillness I had never known,
I am free.

Please, kind sir,
Let me rest.
And dream.
 4d Nobody
Jo
The bleeding carcass of the rotting sun
Stretches upon,
under an insipid ocean.

Vast lands,
an eye only can see,
But never glance upon the silver of another moon.
 4d Nobody
Jo
A handful of coins, to pay the fee for the bus.

Quiet chats, with rough leather seats, a skin away from alive. Scenery, stretching out into the unknown, the window outside, painting a gateway to the acres of trees.

I smile, knowing these moments are between the two of us.
Just you and me.

With the sea and sky for company,
Guided, by a soulful dream
We are one.
Next page