I live a life of constant motion
though sprinkled with mental rest
and constant failure.
I am a disappointment,
a freak,
a ***** ****** waiting to die
at the hands of an angry,
repressed and repressive
white mob.
I hate everything about myself,
my nose, my ears, my eyes,
my lips, my cheeks, my eyebrows,
my pores, my flesh, my motions,
my mannerisms, my personality,
all of the wide gullies of my mind
and the imploding center of soul.
I like to whine,
though I realize it does no good
as I never quite win.
There is no one to hold me
and sway me in the dark,
nobody to be the ocean
under my boat -like body.
The world is rosy and I
am disgusting,
yellowed and rotting
in color and in character.
I'm jealous of the love everyone else
can receive, of the unsuppressed
acceptance to which all are subjugated.
I have no great love,
no beautiful story to wow you with,
only my hatred,
my anger,
the boiling
the seething
the slow and complete
rageful roasting of my pillars
and my temple to lay at your feet.
I am a constant failure.
I am addicted to various
mind altering substances.
My mind has been altered.
I am an alien
a subterranean beast
come to destroy this
terrestrial world
as there is no muscled and toned
Adonis to love--
no,
it is much worse--
not even a greasy *******
to comfort me in my
swelling and rising
self-consciousness.
Self aware
of my situation,
my insecurities climb
upon my arched back,
mounting me,
my failure ****** me
in the only way I recognize
affection: force.
I wanted a mob
but I guess I can destroy myself,
too.