First I start off with one jab to my own jaw,
Then I kick myself in the nuts however that is possible,
I'll rip and tear my hair out,
Rubbing soap in my eyes to add to the fun.

I twist my ******* until they are good and purple,
Getting a running start so I can jump through a door head first.
I dropkick a wooden slab with nails pointing out of it.

I'll take an razor and rapidly shave my face with no cream,
Then pouring vinegar onto the cuts,
I'll dunk my head into the toilet and pull the handle,
In order to conduct a self swirly.

I open my tackle box for fishing,
And find countless giant hooks for bass,
Sticking one through my cheek,
Then I'll flop around on the ground covered in thumb tacks.

Hydrofluoric acid baths are so heavenly,
Kissing a piranha on the mouth,
He naws on my lips as I slam my body into a mirror,
What happens next, is what I love the most.

I'll lay three boxes of legos on the ground,
Nice and flat they hold with anticipation,
I'll jump on them so gracefully,
River dancing while I stick a stun gun up my ***.

Mixing *****,
Bleach,
And Frank's hot sauce in a bucket,
I dip my feet in them after my lego dance.
The pain is so wonderfully jolting through my body,
As I jump into a pool with toasters and microwaves plugged into a power strip.

I wanna tickle the *** of a horse with a feather,
So it kicks me straight in the throat,
Then have the New York Giants run across my body In their cleats to the field,
After the game, they wipe the dirt off their cleats on my face.

I'd like to look down the barrel of a Red Ryder,
Then pull the trigger as the BB bounces off of my pupil,
I'll wash my eye out with nail polish remover,
Following that,
I'll drive a car down a hill with no breaks.

I want Freddy Kruger to play with my hair,
While Edward Scissorhands massages my back,
I'll kiss medusa with ******,
And have her snakes nibble on my ears.

I'll take a double headed cobra and floss my **** cheeks with it,
I'll tongue punch the **** box of Honey Booboo's mom,
I'll stick my head in a bee hive,
And run on a treadmill shaking it,
Until each bee stings my entire face.

I'll pull my own teeth out with pliers,
And have the same act done for my finger nails,
Rubbing my hands together covered in mineral ice,

Spray painting a target on the ground,
I'll set a ten foot ladder up next to it,
Climbing to the top of said ladder,
I jump off head first,
Landing straight on the bulls eye.

I'll swim right into a hurricane,
After I ate an entire steak dinner,
An earthquake causing the hurricane to become a tsunami,
I ride the tsunami straight into a building, where the building collapses onto my back.

I'll line up salt like *******,
And roll a dollar up snorting it continuously,
I'll take a razor blade and cut the lines off of my fingerprints and hands,
Then play the guitar like Eric Clapton.

I'd tie a rope to my genitals, then set up a stool to a ceiling fan,
Where the other end of the rope would be,
And kick the stool,
Leaving me hanging by my ******* and ***** from the ceiling.

I would do any of these sadistic,
horrific,
agonizing,
painful,
evil,
Atrocious things to myself,
Before I'd ever take you back again.

Have you ever felt,
The things that I have felt,
Repetition at its finest,
Cycles viciously spinning,
And fires that refuse to go out?

The annoyance of consistency,
Always needing more
                            more,
                           And more,
Until my brain just resists,
The resistance of greed,
But greed is just a substitute for emptiness,
Holes that have been formed inside me,
Craving the very sweetness of joy.

I'm caught on a hook,
A hook of fishermen named desires,
I ache for variety and change,
But the only change is my ability,
To sustain in complexity.

Is it ungrateful to be this way,
Kissing the realism goodbye,
As it drives me to madness,
Leaving me in a state of blue,
And uncertainty?

Independence is what I propose,
But adolescence limits the opportunities,
That have been given to me as a test,
A test of which I continue to fail,
Since I am afraid of responsibility.

Genius talents,
Gifted from god,
I hold him liable of my fate,
Yet since I need this vicious cycle to end,
I must try to take it into my own hands,

Even if I am,
Afraid of the change,
As much as I wish for it.

Fragile Minded,
Gullibility that leaves me in embarrassment,
Causing an obvious departure from my notability.
I weaken as my former friends migrate to someone new,
Forgetting that it is time to move on.

I have struggles to let go from my past,
Nostalgia makes it impossible to achieve,
Those days have been long gone,
But my memory will always cherish them,
Even if they carelessly forget my name.

I'm wondering if my sadness is because I'm moving on from this place,
Or that I'm having trouble giving up the idea of it,
Whichever one my path leads to,
The lost art of smiling behooves me to feel blue.

It's meaningless and useless in regard to my successful future as a man,
But the emotional scarring will always be with me,
Part of me mourns my mistakes and lost notoriety,
But another part of me loathes the other part of me,
As it is someone I never truly wanted to be,
But had to be, in order to survive.

There were as many good times as there were bad,
But the bad times sinfully destroy my chances of retaining bitterness,
I've lost many girls before,
And friends who then became rivals.

Life in these years are like being guided by a safety net,
But the following year the world gets dropped in my hands,
Like a melted piece of clay,
And yet I have to be the one to mold it.

I'm not afraid of being a grown up,
I'm afraid to let go of my youth,
Not matter how petty and senseless these experiences may have turned out to be,
I'll always be me,
The teenager who refused to grow up.

Complaining is talent given to me from God,
I've concluded that it's my one true gift.
Is it possible that I'm just a poet?
Or will this talent soon drift?

I complain and I complain,
No wonder why I'm so misleading.
As I emulate the mind of a man of strength,
But I speak the words of my dysfunctional brain.

I'm complaining about complaining,
How Ironic this seems to be.
Short words with longer meaning,
I complain so much,
That I forget that I am free.

I was born a medical debacle.
Bowel movements consistently irritable,
Inflammation causing an abundance of distress,
Have my fears of leaving the house to ******.

Help me as my insides are bursting in pain.
I’d rather have my head repeatedly slammed in car door.
Scenarios created within my own psyche,
I am left with great despair for my future as a man.

Failing  to do so little as sitting in a classroom,
With unfamiliar eyes that could easily be drawn to me,
I hear a gurgling sound coming from my intestines,
And I am stranded on an island of panic.

Unable to leave the room,
As the instructor ceases trips to the bathroom,
I’m crying on the inside in agony,
And my colon is screaming traumatically.

The mental tormenting has gone seventeen years too long,
With this ailment I have yet to rid myself of.
I am a slave to this known syndrome,
As many people are of this day,
And I have genetics to be thankful for of this disease,
That is literally and figuratively,
eating me up inside.

How beautiful the moon is tonight.
So gracious and so pure.
I'm fortunate to have the privilege of accompanying you this evening,
Since I am in fact,
An insomniac.

Life has a funny way of making unconventional things turn gorgeous,
In the split second of a blink.
My heart holds gratefulness to you, Ms. Moon,
For adding charm to my hellish night.

You change a lot like a person,
Your appearances can very well vary,
But the object of your being is simply to shine light on the darkness,
Now my darkness has been lit up like a Christmas tree.
All because of your elegancy.

You're great company for me, Ms. Moon,
As you hold no judgment to my livelihood.
I do not choose to be woken by such an illness created from genetics,
Thankfully I have you as a companion,
A companion to share my struggles with,
On a night you so beautifully made shine.