My heavy jaw shifts forward
As if a string
Attached to the ground tugs at it softly.
My head drops and I look at the sidewalk in front of me
Not daring to look up in fear of condemnation.
Moth carcasses lay scattered on the sidewalk
Washed through the gutter by heavy rain
Unbeknownst to us all
Until the rain revealed their fate.
It often takes rain
To wash away the veil
Of a perfect world
And show us that our demons
Are simply sitting at the top of the rain gutter
Waiting to be brought out by the rain
To be put on display
And trampled under everybody's feet.

I hated you like a scar
That stubbornly wouldn't go away.
And people stared
And people judged.

I wore you like a bruise.
You were a stray puppy
And I took you in.
And slowly, I fell in love.

I held on to you like a cast.
Clinging on for dear life
And I needed you
And I truly did love you.

You left me like a cold.
Lingered for a while
And when I got used to you,
And when I needed you,

You disappeared.

Smoking white horse
On the horizon
A trick of the eye
The land, low and flat
Always speaks of goodbye

I pick bits away
From the moment
Developing gently
Slowly degrading
Filed away in
My glass bottle memories

Listing the faults
That I see in society
The gas pedal suffers
They make me so angry
Increasing distance allows me to breathe

I pick bits away
From the moment
Developing gently
Slowly degrading
Filed away in
My glass bottle memories

Glass bottle memories
Litter my mind
I could take them
And Break them
But they still would be
Lying there shattered
Forever to see.

From the moment
Developing gently
Slowly degrading
Filed away in
My glass bottle memories

The way you speak
To me and
About me,
Well, its no wonder
Why I hate myself.
How can one expect
To speak any differently
To one's self
Than those around you?
So lets skip the formalities
While I cut to my vain,
I mean chase;
These double standards are
Rediculous.
"Be yourself!"
They scream.
But behind closed doors,
They only whisper that
"Be yourself",
Really means,
"Be me."
"Be who society wants you to be."

But can I blame her?
For that's how she has been raised:
Be quiet
Take up less space
And never
Show cleavage.
Its our fault they stare
We are simply sinful and
Cannot expect men to exhibit
Self Control.

Pick small bits away
From the moment.
Highly regarded,
Slowly degrading,
Listing the faults
Developing gently.
If I shouldn’t be alive,
Why breathe?
Difficult combinations
Of outcomes
Come with
Time.