You're pretty and all
But
There's rust on my trust motor
So how about we try out some fun positions
And see where it goes
I know love is more than breathy “oh"s and curled toes
But
My heart can’t take the break
And I don't want to die, I think.

Mine is the life of a chew toy in a kennel.
Rubber skin covered in
Spit
From the ravenous dogs trying to
Rip me apart.

But I’m made for the abuse
And the ******* biting will be long
Dead
Before my skin cracks and colors fade

Finding confidence
Or rather
Finding apathy
What happens when nihilism
Overwhelms pessimism
Overwhelms doubt.

We're just dust organized interestingly
So smile
At me or her or him
And ignore failure’s omnipresence
Enjoy your freedom.

Of expectation
Of not meeting expectations
And I see my peers
Competing for money
For fame
For history
At the peak of this field.

While I write depressing *******
About my ******* depression
As if it matters
As if I matter
Using clichè as a form of self-destruction
Roses kiss the moon and blood
Hah, I forgot the rain.

Blood, hearts, and mud mired mythology
all fail to describe that desire for pale skin and lust's fire.


But I still can't see past the crush,
mind blanks and stomach stabbed by nausea shanks
what the ****.


I feel half my age and not in the good way often espoused by the saged
But in the small way that makes you remember how powerless you were.
How powerless you are.


When the fever breaks you're not getting better.
When the sickness passes you're not getting better.
Scars mar hope's north star.
Until you can't find your way forward.
Until just going anywhere gets you more and more lost.

Re-entry was not kind to me.
After falling’s friction fried my shell
The crater.

Steep walls rim the impact depression,
The rain slowly fills it.
One day I’ll drown, I think.

Such is the price of holding the moon
Of reaching….so far above yourself.
At least I can still see it,
And relive the ascent in memory.

They say I over-think things
That I read too much into things
Or overcomplicate things
The simple, shallow, impulsive
****-ups
Should lament their inability to keep up.