With each new holiday,
we are told to purchase,
fake plastic memories
for a fake plastic purpose.

Fake Plastic trees
for Christmas to usher.
Fake Plastic hearts
for Valentine's lovers.

Fake Plastic wreaths
for a New Year’s front door.
Fake Plastic pumpkins
for Halloween decor.

For Easter we have
fake plastic eggs
and fake plastic grass
fake plastic time, for us to pass.

Now we have plastic oceans
and plastic rain.
plastic forests
and plastic terrains.

Plastic is what the fish and whales feast on.
Plastic is what we base our economy on.

Plastic plates with plastic silverware,
Plastic here, plastic everywhere.

A fake plastic earth will be forming soon.
With a fake plastic sun and fake plastic moon

The mirror never lies.
It’s her only friend,
revealing only what
her reflection understands

Dysmorphia of her body,
a twisted trunk of bones.
The food has no thought
to the dogma she condones.

Her gastric acid sets
in her gut it boils and stews.
Nothing to digest,
no absorption to diffuse.

Her duodenums empty,
a vacant anatomic place.
The enzymes will expire
disappear without a trace.

Her clavicle is sharp,
a knife that cuts her veins.
The ribs protrude out,
under the skin, it starts to strain.

The image in the glass
She doesn’t recognize,
She talks to her through
a pair of sunken eyes.

Her blanket is insecurity,
her pillow is commotion.
She gladly bites the hand that feeds
her curiosity of emotion.

Colors are what she feels,
this she finds true.
When sadness does appear
she sees a cliched blue.

But when happiness is present
pink and purple will adhere.
Blossoms of pastels
throughout her atmosphere.

Antihistamines are used
to shut her weary eyes.
Insomnia will go away
until tomorrow night.

A gregarious culture
connected to a stream,
an electric herding
of mediocre self esteems.

A network of fringe
for the modern conformity.
A new breed of introverts
plugging antisocial irony.

The monster in my closet
I wish was pretend.
He’s real as can be
but, hard to comprehend.

At night is when he comes
out the closet door;
exactly just the same
as the night before.

He whispers in my ear
in a maniacal tone.
All my fear and doubts
that I tried to disown.

I start to feel the panic
as my heart palpitates.
Believing all the words
he tries to elaborate.

Worrying sets in
sleep will not occur.
He robs my peace of mind,
an insomnia connoisseur.

Anxiety’s demon
sent to destroy,
positive thoughts
I wanted to employ

Plump me with Botox
so I won’t grow old.
Un-sag my skin
watch it unfold.

Can you tell my emotions
by my ****** expression?
Then it isn’t working,
need more injections.

Tighten my skin,
stretch it over my cranium.
Fill it with chemicals,
shine like titanium.

My lips are thinning,
and the cameras are ready,
hyaluronic acid, please,
just keep the needle steady.

Autumn, where have you been?
I think I’ve had enough.
For years I have been onto you
and I finally caught your bluff.

Fashionably late is fine,
it happens to the best of us.
Seasons sometimes take their time
in this cosmic wanderlust.

The problem is you never show
in the humid Houston air.
You bail on me every year
in this blistering town square.

Please, just get back over here
and throw some leaves upon the ground.
Make it a promise for old times' sake,
and please say you’ll stick around.

There are five stages of grief my therapist told me.
I did them out of order, thanks to my chronic ADD.

Denial was supposed to be the first stage,
but Bargaining is what I did.
I bantered with myself for days,
placing unrealistic bets and bids.

Anger is said to be next,
but Denial is what appeared.
My situation was too perplex
I wanted it to disappear.

Acceptance took Bargaining's place,
I embraced my defeat.
I bowed down from a losing race,
not wanting a repeat.

Anger transpired instead of being sad.
Depression didn't come like I was told.
Sounds cliché, but I was boiling mad,
I saw red and lost control.

Acceptance was not what I felt last,
Depression was the unaltered state I was in.
Melancholy was my final forecast
of grief’s ultimate tailspin

An odyssey of truth
across the seven seas.
An adventure of a lifetime,
take my hand and come with me!

I have a ship named Censor,
I'll navigate her wheel.
I'm the Captain of her anchor,
the master of ideas.

Perception is her mascot,
conscience is her sail.
A religion navigates
a balance on the scale.

Her starboard gravity
will tell you what to know.
Her mesmorizing port
will show you where to go.

They both conceal the waves
to capsize our ideas.
An agenda of our thought
to break a bending will.

The truth is just a scratch,
upon her glossy surface.
Concealing all the bias
will always serve a purpose.

A man of conviction,
a cult of personality.
His name was Thomas More,
a philosopher of society.

An advisor to the king
a saint some would say.
He met his dreadful fate,
on a cold November day.

Treason was his crime
a direct correlation,
he skipped the ceremony
of Boelyn's coronation.

Tyranny took over
the Tudors dynasty.
You do not snub the wives
of the infamous King Henry.

My tiny little atom
sitting all alone.
This tiny little atom
make up my chromosomes.

Another little atom
will form a molecule.
More will come together
and make a soluble.

The building blocks of life
with electrons spinning round
will latch on to each other
forming chemical compounds.

My body causes
a chemical reaction,
with the help from
the laws of attraction.

I store a nectar
my pheromones release,
it serves a delicious
butterfly feed.

Oxytocin
is what it's called,
in my belly is
where it’s installed.

The butterflies swarm
when oxytocin’s produced.
They come to digest
the catalytic juice.

Flipping and turning
eating ravenously,
filling me with bliss
a divine ecstasy.

There is no other feeling
that I can compare,
when the butterflies dine
from my stomach lair.

My candy heart bleeds with severity,
hemorrhaging despair and melancholy.

A new heartache for you to ignore,
what once was good will be no more.

My candy heart is achromatic,
devoid of color, systematic.

Black and grey is what I feel,
void of complexion nothing seems real.

My candy heart is numb and calloused,
paralyzed and unbalanced.

All that's left is anguish and pain,
the only emotions that remain.

My candy heart cannot be repaired
will not be saved can never be spared.

Demolished, some pieces lay absent,
shattered into a million fragments.

A candy castle so tasty and sweet
made out of the most delectable treats.

Peppermint domes that swirl red and white,
glisten and shine in the glorious light.

Licorice steeples, to the sky they ascend.
with Fruit Roll-Ups as flags flapping in the wind.

The drawbridge is made of warm gingerbread,
suspended by Twizzlers of cherry red.

Toffee and brittle brick up the structure
Painted with icing of contrasting colors.

Frosting fastens gumdrop shingles in place,
the roof sparkles with crystallized sugar lace.

A lollipop wreath hangs on the chocolate bar door,
whip cream and cherries top the decor.

Jolly Ranchers are the windows that do reside.
A rainbow-tinted world can be viewed from inside.

The palace is surrounded by a gentle chocolate stream
Where marshmallow peeps like to float on and dream.

AND.....SCENE!

Well done!
Now,  with your permission,
I need to critique your
acting audition.

Sit beside me, on this tufted couch.
We have a lot to discuss, a lot to talk about.

A diamond in the rough is what I see.
The silver screen is where you belong,
where you need to be.

I can polish
the rough parts of your exterior.
Compared to other actresses,
you will be superior!

Don't be shy! Relax!
Come closer!
Let me help....
I'll massage your back,
rub your shoulders....

Now, where was I..?

Yes! You will win Oscars
made of gold!
The spotlight is yours
to control!

Everyone will know
who you are!
A household name!
A shining star!

What's that?
I make you uncomfortable?..What of propriety...?
I just offered you a platform of wealth and notoriety!

Who do you think you are!?
Do you know who I am?!
All of Hollywood
is under my command!

Nothing is free,
there is always a price!
It is selfish of you
to think otherwise!

The buttons placed
on your blouse
will determine what
I will allow.

A song that's been sung,
the lyrics don't change.
You must pay the piper
for fortune and fame.

I can make or break
I do it all the time.
I have movie producers
waiting in line.

If you don't succumb
to my desire,
I will find another girl
to hire.

You will never be employed
it will be such a shame.
You'll become a pariah,
with a soiled name.

The choice is yours...
Do you want to be a celebrity?
It starts on this couch..
what's it going to be?

My ventricle chamber
bleeds midnight,
pumping despair,
absent of light.

My atrium houses
a hemorrhaging ghost,
haunted isolation’s
conjured host.

The heart is a cavity
a decaying shell,
reality ceases
agony swells.

The Queen of Hearts
makes her move,
adrenaline chess
to construe.

The enzymes melt
her painted frown,
with head held high
she adjusts her crown

She remembered who
she once was,
anticipating
breathless pause.

Around the King
her fingers grasp
to set him on
the Bishop's path.

And by her hand
he meets his fate
he is no more
by her, "checkmate".

My therapy is chemical,
I go for weekly sessions.
My artery is femoral,
the site of my injection.

The venom attacks the mitosis
of my splitting cell.
Dyspepsia takes over
like a spinning carousel.

Cherry-pick the parts that fit your narrative.
Discard the others, they are imperative.

Cherry-pick all the "Yes Men" you like.
Trust what they say, believe the hype.

Cherry Pick this slippery ***** we're descending on.
Plunge down the proverbial landslide we came upon.

They call me the Cheshire Cat, that's my name.
A creation out of Lewis Carroll's brain.

I live in a in land of wonder you see,
and store plenty of tricks up my sleeve.

I'm a feline that can grin from ear to ear.
I can also make parts of my body disappear.

I am in love with irony and all its complications.
I adore philosophy and erratic explanations.

Speaking in metaphors, that's my intricate specialty.
I'm not insane, I just live in a different reality.

A reality that fulfills my immortal amusement.
A world where I demonstrate my brash imprudence.

Wonderland's espionage is a good title for me,
eavesdropping on all there is, nestled in my tree.

SHHHHH! I see a young girl approaching, she is coming closer.
She looks alone and lost ......I wonder??...

Curiosity can't **** this cat or make me fall.

I am a bit mad, I dare say, but aren't we all?

I’m going to catch
the biggest one yet;
my headline is tabloid
and I’m all set.

I’ll sit here and wait
for you to scroll over.
Don’t be afraid,
scroll a little closer.

My ridiculous title
will reel you in.
The sleight of hand
is the deadliest of sins.

You click my bait,
caught in my trap,
reading through
each paragraph.

Integrity is gone.
It’s all about numbers.
A mouse click reveals
what it uncovers.

The stripes have gone dull;
the colors won't bleed.
Did we muddle it up?
Did we **** the dream?

Or was it disguised as a nightmare
for the ones that believed
in the black of the morning
with the dirt on their sleeve?

Was it the salt that you tasted
when it didn't go your way,
manipulating the stars
to make them all pay?

Did your servants make a mint
off a functioning back?
You still didn't earn
the empathy that you lack.

The party is over
the one I once knew
a voice will be counted
inside the small booth.

So, raise your glasses up high
and share this drink with me!
Here's to America!
My land of the Free!

You cut me off in traffic
in your giant SUV.
No blinker or no warning,
no hospitality.

You did get a gesture
from my graceful lifted finger.
My middle phalange
was raised with some vigor.

I hope you have full coverage
because I’m about to start a claim.
I’ll set my car in over drive
and push you off my lane.

I’m a crazy woman driver.
You’ll find out in time
with screeching whitewall tires,
vengeance will be mine.

Generation of attention
with a dopamine bend.
Anti-social irony
is the fresh fake trend.

A pale heart will wait
to turn ruby red.
The ego's more shallow
on the numeric thread.

An invisible crowd
will have a new pet name.
Neurotic subscribers
will be led by the vain.

Just follow the lead,
and drink their arsenic.
The poison becomes sweeter,
in the cup that you sip.

Betray me with a whisper
cradle me in shame
put me in your midnight blue
and give me all the blame.

Ignore the words
that haunt me,
use them as you wish,
project them with your doublecross,
and treat me like your *****.

My shattered porcelain heart,
broke on your concrete.
Piercing through the skin
underneath your calloused feet.

Drowning in regret
is all that's' left of me,
it grips me at my aching core
and will never let me be.

Pushing some narcotics,
of yellow, red, and green.
A rainbow of biotic’s,
to match the color scheme.

I have an abundance of diuretics
all different shapes and sizes.
An organized aesthetic
for commercial enterprises.

Radio murdered the live musician.
It had no regrets,
this was the intention.

Video killed the radio star.
Beauty became the focus,
rather than playing a guitar.

The internet shot music videos down.
Took a whole network with it,
no one needs their MTV now.

Who will massacre the internet?
The verdicts still out,
I'm not ready to place my bet.

You took my sunshine with you
that dark and mournful day.
Turning my world around me
Into the color gray.

Your voice was like concrete
that I learned to lean upon.
When times got cold and hard,
I turned you up and sang along.

Now my lovely days are broken,
scattered in the breeze.
A song I’ll keep repeating
to set my soul at ease.

Farewell Mr. Withers,
your memory will stay.
I’ll keep your rhyme within me
as I walk on life’s pathway.

Go ask Alice in her padded cell
how she took a tumble and fell
down a rabbit hole of illusion
now don’s a straight-jacket of confusion.

Go ask Alice with her veins full of Lithium
how she surrendered to her delirium
of smoking caterpillars and a
grinning feline,
now attached to an Intravenous mainline.

Go ask Alice about her sanity
how it vanished in this asylum of rhapsody
in a fog that is translucent and hypnotic
in her Wonderland of painted narcotics.

What’s that? You want to fail at life you say?
Well my friend! I’ll teach you my ways!
You came to the right place, I dare say!
Because I fail at life every day!

I’ll be your teacher and you’ll be my mentor.
I’ll show you all the things I’m unaccountable for.
Because that is the first thing you must know my dear pupil.
Take no responsibility, blame everyone, it’s really quite simple.

The next step is extremely crucial.
You must focus on all the negative around you.
Ignore the positive, it means nothing.
You’re catching on I see! Let’s keep going!

The last  lesson I need to teach is gratitude.
Don’t feel it or show it, it’s all in the attitude.
It’s called Entitlement, act like you don’t care.
Perfect!! Hold it right there!

So that is the all the tools you need to succeed.
Have fun failing at life, Godspeed!

Allow me to introduce myself, I am the Lion that’s cowardly.
A **** in boots of the sorts, crippled with anxiety.

At this very moment, I am feeling sublime.
For I am laying face-up in a poppy field, ****** out of my mind.

The fog is starting to clear, it's all coming back to me now.
What was I thinking? What, when, why, how!?

It all started when I met a girl named Dorothy and her dog Toto,
accompanied by a tin guy with no heart and a brain dead scarecrow

She said that a wizard in Oz can put some courage in me.
All I need to do was to follow them to the Emerald City.

Some may call it a lack of better judgment, but I followed her lead,
skipping down a yellow brick road toward my destiny.

I immediately regretted it, but I was too scared to go back.
So I kept on following her regardless of my anxiety attack.

Now it could just be me...
but all things terrifying seem to follow Dorothy.

She is being stalked by a witch, traveling on a broom by air.
Her companions are flying demon monkeys, out of my worst nightmare.

I think that Dorothy may also be insane.
She keeps blabbering about a place called Kansas again and again.
I'm almost certain this place does not exist, she is talking crazy.
Maybe she should ask the wizard for a pill that will cure her insanity.

I think I'll just lie here in the poppies, pretending to be high.
Maybe they'll leave me here, I can only hope they pass me by.

Ill go back to my forest, back to my cowardly ways,
back to being scared of my shadow, back to better days.

The witch is dead?
Can this be?
My sister is gone,
so why am I happy?

Am I the wicked
and not the good?
Are these feelings I'm feeling
to be understood?

If the wicked do not rest
will she find her peace?
Did the evil she possess
get passed on to me?

There's a smile on my face
to mask my pain.
I will mirror the Munchins
celebration in vain.

"Ding ****!",  They cheer
parading down the road,
celebrating Dorothy
and her little dog, Toto.

She murdered my sibling
by her twisting home.
She came from Kansas
a place unknown.

Who is the child,
that is getting applause?
A demon to destroy
the Witches of Oz?

I need to send her back
with a simple spell,
back to Kansas;
back to hell.

I may be the next witch
on her list,
to eradicate
with a house that twists.

The Emerald wizard will answer her call.
For there’s no place like home, after all.

A Scarecrow in a field?
How typically cliché!
Just hanging around
scaring crows all day?!

But this is my life
it is what I become.
adapted to my environment
comfortably numb.

Perched on these poles
like a broken Christ,
no thoughts of my own
to ponder at night.

If I only had a brain
to keep me company!
An imagination to use
to create a fantasy!

I'd calculate equations
while protecting the harvest.
An intellectual of knowledge,
a scholar of the smartest.

A critical thinker,
yes that's what I said!
With scientific theories
dancing in my head!

What...??!!

Do my eyes deceive?
Who is this girl...
approaching me...???

She has a basket in her hand;
skipping on a street
There is a tiny brown dog
following her feet...

Look at her shoes!!..They are sparkly red!
What could she possibly want
from a scarecrow that's brain-dead...?

To Be Continued...

I’m a man, made out of the tin;
sheets of worn-out metal,
decaying in an orchard
with my trusty axe and kettle.

I cried myself to rust
because I have no heart,
No love for this metallic man;
no soul mate counterpart.

Can’t you hear the sounds
that echo underneath?
A hollow empty shell
where a heart's supposed to beat.

The days are long and grinding;
the nights are even longer.
Rotting away in this field
my mind begins to wonder.

I dream of sweet devotion
that I want to feel
and cardiac vibrations
put in this man of steel.

A coronary muscle
overflowing with affection
is all I ever wanted,
an emotional connection.

Wait! What’s this......??

I see ruby sparkles
and stare with fascination.
It's skipping upon some yellow bricks,
is this a hallucination??


To Be Continued.....

A little irony goes a long way.
Give me a mile
and I’ll have something to say.

But I’m all out of irony.
My pockets are bare.
Are you even listening?
Do you even care?

Do you have some to lend?
I could use some right now.
My field has gone stale
I have no row to plow.

I’m accepting donations.
I am reaching out,
for someone to hydrate
my ironic drought.

Dorothy Gale,
are you okay?
Is the Clozapine keeping
your twisters at bay?

Do the brainless scarecrows
invade your dreams?
Is your sanity
unraveling at the seams?

No witches on brooms
are taking flight,
no flying demon monkeys
are coming tonight.

There's a yellow brick road
to your padded room.
where a straight jacket
waits to seal your doom.

There are no ruby slippers
to take you back home.
No wizard to cure
your psychotic syndrome.

It can’t rain all the time
the clouds will make room
for colors to seep through
this gloomy afternoon.

A bow of colors
provided by the sun
follow the rain clouds
after they are done.

Red, green, blue
and everything in between.
Prisms of marvel
for all our eyes to see.

You can’t have colors
without the grey days.
Rainbows will appear,
they always find a way.

Jealousy wears many hats I have come to know.
Some hats are bought, some are stolen and some are borrowed.

They all come in a variety of colors with different shapes and sizes;
being flaunted with emotional compromises.

Anger is a hat I have seen Jealousy don on many occasions.
It’s a fire red derby with pointy spikes,
a hellish sensation.

Sorrow is another hat Jealousy will wear from time to time:
It's a black top hat with a blue velvet line.
There is a purple veil that conceals the eyes,
a bewitching melancholic surprise.

Lucy is not in the sky
like you were told.
Her feet or on the ground
holding a piece of coal.

The rocking horse people
took her diamond away
and smeared marshmallow pie
across her narrow face.

The marmalade sky’s
ozone has disintegrated,
from the fumes of cellophane  
the flowers created.

The tangerine trees
turned to rust,
from newspaper taxis
exhaust pipe dust.

The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,
takes Prozac every day.  
She stays comfortably numb,
keeping despondency at bay.

A man stands behind a podium and microphone,
words comes through speakers of static.
His lips propel the stagnate tone,
standing poised, confident and charismatic.

He holds conviction through his behavior,
his speech are the people's gospel.
He is the way, the truth, their savior,
a modern day philosophical apostle.

Beneath the facade is a rotten marrow plate,
a poison tongue with a malevolent purpose.
Trepidation is a weapon that he demonstrates,
revealed under the scratched surface.

A wolf that don's a sheep's skin,
who has found a herd to operate.
His malefic influence is about to begin,
a crowd he will manipulate.

Kool-Aid is the key to the golden gates,
he said it is the only way out.
Tip the cup, take a sip, have a taste,
expel all your fear and doubt.

“It's not easy being green", Kermit the Frog once said.
Since yellow and blue make this color, is it better to be them instead?

I have been blue once or twice.
It did not feel good, did not feel nice.

Sad and alone is what blue means to me.
Blue is the color I never want to be.

Yellow is another color I have endured.
It made me feel ashamed, confused, and unsure.

Coward and no backbone is what I know,
is my experience with being yellow.

And just like Kermit, I have been green on an occasion.
It's an emotion that’s hard to give an explanation.

Jealous, spiteful, angry, and mean,
is what I felt while being green.

So maybe all these colors I need to ignore.
None of them are easy to be, of this I am sure.

Love and Loneliness
were conceived together,
twins of the universe
separated by ether.

Strong-willed siblings
with an infinite fortitude
that Love is hope
and Loneliness is solitude.

They comfort each other
when life changes progression;
Love gives guidance
and Loneliness, reflection.

I am the Hatter who is mad, they say.
Gone around the bend in every way.

A loon of the sorts who adores riddles and tea,
drowning in a land of ecstasy.

Come with me now! And please don’t fret!
I’ll show you wonders you will never forget!

I’ll show you heaven, hell, and everything in between,
the moon, stars, spiraling galaxies!

A magical realm where nothing is what it seems,
rabbits in waistcoats and a vicious red queen.

My home has an abundance of enchanted food and drink;
when consumed it could make you grow tall or shrink.

I am the mascot of this terrain.
Everyone knows me by my name.

So, let’s go and take my hand.
To a place that Alice called Wonderland!

Sarcasm is my home.
It’s where I hang my hat.
My comfortable surroundings,
a prosperous habitat.

Cynicism are my shoes.
I tie the laces tight.
A thousand miles I will walk
with a jaded appetite.

Enthusiasm is my glass.
It is always half full.
Because life is so exciting
and unpredictable.

Nihilism is my coat,
I wear when it is cold.
It shields me from conforming winds
from a world that has been sold.

Skepticism is my hat.
I question everyone.
The brim holds a query
for civilized discussion.

Criticism is my mirror,
it’s the reflection that I see.
I judge it when I stand before
my harsh realities.

Bring out your dead
with the appendages of coal,
a midnight shell,
for whom the bell tolls.

The streets are bleak.
The demise is contagious.
The Black Death is nigh
and nothing can save us.

The Reaper has arrived.
his scythe’s in demand,
with pestilence beside
the right of his hand.

Love your Mother, because she loves you.
She brings you rainbows with radiant hues.
She brings you purples, reds, greens, and blues
on every flower petal, drenched in dew.

Celebrate your Mother, for her hand, is the sun.
Her gown is the wind that birds glide upon.
Her hair is babies breathe, free and undone;
growing wild in the fields where violets do run.

Blanket your Mother with adoration and time,
give her the space and peace of mind.
Her womb is a melon succulent and divine,
a grape that drips off an emerald vine.

Nurture your Mother, for the nature she holds,
never let her be compromised, bought, or sold.
Her pollen is life's one true mold.
Her soil is richer than diamonds and gold.

Karma doesn’t forget.
She always comes to collect.
She has a lengthy list,
No one goes unchecked.

Days, years, months may pass; time means nothing.
She glides in undetected,
you will never see her coming.

Sweet Mother Karma may my vengeance be yours,
there is a price for my sorrow and hurt.

“Be patient” she said “ and do not be sour”
“I have felt your agony, but I chose the hour”

“Hold your head high, do not dwell on the past”
“Leave the justice to me, no questions asked”

Karma delivers her price depending on how the pain is received.
So always remember to practice self-control and dignity.

Keep moving forward, with grace and class,
because Karma is watching to see how you react.  

To the people you hurt or have lied to before,
I would make amends to settle the score.
Mother Karma is coming, she knows what you did.
A thief in the night, she does not forgive.

There is a hole in her core she must sate.
So, she drives to the grocery store before it’s too late.

She steers the cart in search
of junk food.
She spots a case of cupcakes that can ease her mood.

Powdered donuts on a shelf she can reach.
Next, she chooses Bottled sodas, she packs up five each.

Muffins, Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns and Snickers she will par-take.
She must not forget about the Little Debbie snack cakes.

Once the cashier starts scanning her vittles,
She starts to feel a tingly rush form in her middle.

She pays her fee then rushes to her vehicle parked afar
Then unloads the groceries on the passenger seat of the car.

As she sits behind her steering wheel.
She appraises her edible saviors, then makes her appeal

She starts with the Snickers shoving them down her throat,
The empty void inside her fills as she lets out a choke.

The Funyuns and muffins are next on her seat.
She devours them in seconds, puffing up her cheeks.

Doritos, Cheetos and snack cakes are inhaled like oxygen,
She is slightly starting to feel whole again.

The cupcakes are the last morsels of her stock
She washes them down with the soda she bought.

When the food is gone she observes the food wrappers in her space.
She glances in the rearview mirror but fails to recognize her face.

Powdered sugar and Cheeto dust crusting around her lips,
A sob escapes her chest as sanity begins to slip.

There is one more mission she must forgo
Opening her car door, she shoves a finger down her throat.

***** is released from her belly’s lair.
Stomach acid and bile sting the night air.

She appraises the regurgitation splattered on the concrete.
Then senses the empty void is gone, her task is completed

To forgive is to forget,
or so I am told.
Erase the memories
you need to unload.

Self inflict amnesia
absolve from within.
Don’t bare the scars
of another mortal sin.

But I need to remember
I don’t need to forget,
the sorrow I swallow
in each Percocet.

Misery is a friend.
She reminds me often,
the torment I suffered
cannot be forgotten.

Come one, come all!
I invite you now to the narcissistic ball!

A herd of manipulators will dominate this masquerade.
It will be a sight to see, get your ticket now and don’t be late!

The theme of tonight’s event is sociopathic tendencies,
preying on other people’s vulnerabilities.

Infatuated with themselves, lack any feeling.
Making love to their reflection is what they find appealing.

Mirror mirror on the wall
who is the grandest egomaniac of all?
They will be crowned tonight, didn’t you know?
You will find out if you dare to show!