i hate lana del ray for reasons beyond her control
I've never met the woman
i don't care about her personal life
nor how she spends her time
and i only listen to her when the radio dictates
but she makes my love think of me
and for that i hate her

every artist needs one
so would it be vain to place my intent for a muse
into my path of self loathing

its hard to describe
that melted n burning wax on my fingers feels like christmas
and fruitshoots smell like mcdonalds
and the way that pez tastes like someones house
or that pig from winnie the pooh

manipulation is a bad quality
but ****, does it feel good to do it.
i never go to extremes, i'm not that bad
just a taste, small things
the power it gives is inexplicable
it makes me want more
test the waters and see how far i can go

everyday is a test to convince myself to not hate for eating
and its one step forwards two steps back
i try to feel empowered or fierce or something other than awful
yet you always loom with the sly comments
its my fault for being too fragile
but its a **** hard truth when the women at my job
taught me more about self love
then the woman who bore me

you ever just get
absolutely sick to your guts?
no rhyme or reason, just a sickening feeling
brewing where god intended
i'm living my ******* teenage Holden Caulfield
******* of teenage angst
fueled by hatred of self rather than rebellion for the sake of nobody

nothing is true and everything is bland
you're naive for thinking otherwise
we're force fed these stories
of princesses and castles and love and friendship
but nothing is true and everything is a lie
you'll thank me late for ripping that off
love will end and trust is dead
you're naive for wanting otherwise