i feel disgusting-
every itch
every hair out of place
every wrinkle in my clothes
every randomly sprouting hair on my face
every feeble, fragile, weak, cliched word
makes me need out of here
out of this place
this (mental) state
that has, again
turned me into a self-conscious mess
who only sees his own flaws

i want to burn these words
as i write them

want to cut into my face
with my non-existent, bitten fingernails
everytime i scratch

want someone to hold me
to tell me i'm beautiful
(lying through her teeth)

forget that

i don't want to make anyone
feel like i do;
ugly, desperate-
with me clinging to her
as strongly

as these ****** words cling to me

begging me for air
for life
so they'll feel that their existence
isn't a joke-
reminding me, every second
that mine is, for needing them



©Brandon Webb
2012

Roses are red, but only sometimes
And I don't care much for them anyways
Violets are never blue
But I like crepe myrtles better
Sugar is sweet, but too sweet for me
I'd much rather have spicy
As for you? You're only sweet all the time
Other times, you're incredible.

pinhead afterlife--
i fit here warming souls
with frozen belief

stargaze wakes
wide dogmatic sleep--
earth revolves

I fear the silence
Not the warm enveloping smiles of silence
But the stagnant cold sterile suffocating silence
That drowns me, leaves me numb
Cold
And alone
Curled up in a corner
Sobbing for hugs and a few words
Of someone's whispered comfort