In this world, to gain success,
You have to start young.
Why?
Because grown-ups aren't that special, silly.

When a child draws a picture
It's more special that if an adult made it.
The younger you start, the more talented you seem
Even if it's not true.

As a child i wrote a story and was labeled "gifted".
Now if i wrote the same thing, i would be a degenerate.
Your skills are supposed to grow along with your age.
So this is why you have to start young,
To be valid at least for a while.

I’m incapable of being the healthy
Women that you need
Breaking trust, promises
And even boundaries

But it is not because I hate you
Quite the contrary
You just can’t relate to
The world I live in

I actually love you deeply
You deserve so much more
Then what I can be
So please block and delete me

I’m incapable of being the healthy
Women that you need
You tried to save me
And I should have agreed

Instead, I choose to stay
In this misery
With endless abuse
Endless injuries

I asked you one last time
To just trust in me
You chose to protect yourself
Because I’m not healthy

And I don’t blame you…

I sit by myself, with much disdain,
With only my mind, how inhumane.
Not for the cliché but for her touch,
And I think of her simply too much.

What’s come over me? This is not fair!
I think too much on those pretty thoughts,
Her lips, her nose, the smell of her hair.
Inside my heart, there lie the small knots.

For I’m sensitive to love’s ***** bites,
And these abrasive, yearning of nights.
How can I stand it? Must I submit?
It only happens when the moon is lit.

When the hours grow, a bit distant.
When time stretches so, I can’t see her.
That’s when it starts being persistent.
Then it strikes fast like a saboteur.

Venus or Cupid? Who to accuse?
I hope that it’s not all lost in vain.
Though you might think it, I’m not confused.
This is what I call love rotting the brain.

If I must sink
Let it be
I don’t care
About decency

If I can’t have you
No one shall
I have no confidence
And no morale

My heart is cracking
My head aches
Don’t care about consequences
**** the stakes

If I must sink
Let it be
I’ve long accepted
There’s no saving me

Won’t live without you
Won’t carry on
By the time you read this
I’ll be long gone

Not by death
But I’ll lose my mind
You know what they say
Love makes you blind

Misconceptions running through my head,
Pillow talking, racing to the bed.
Tongue playing keeps me in illusion.
So, I’d rather find the mix-up in seclusion.

Then let me lay you down and play pretend,
Thinking you're more than just a friend.  
Because all I ever did I did for you,
For those parting thighs and loving kisses, too.

A black bra wraps my eyes like a blindfold,
Delusion has me locked up in her hold.
Soft lips rubbing up and down my neck,
And It's never passionate; it’s always just a peck.

Misconceptions and skin running past my fingers,
I can't help that it’ll be the thought of her that lingers.

Count the years, last I had a girlfriend –
not the same count since I last kissed a girl
but I could name the bunch I kissed (not a lot)
no grand numbers to express a body count;
though I’VE met a lot of people, but still haven’t
been around. Cried a little more this year, then what
I plan to begin with every year – tasted a drop of lust,
swallowed every piece of a tear (cut my tongue)
acted worse than my young- ****** up (a lot)

Thought of suicide more times than the reasons I had to
**** myself- did a bit of exercise for about a month
not for my health; my stomach was sticking out.
Fed myself a taste of lips, lost my tongue in the sound
of their hiss, got to hold onto someone’s hips- still never
found the appeal of calling a girl your ***** (isn’t that
an ick)

Been called out by those whose ears could never hear
a ring; tried to delete my Google when I though the search
for love was over- now I laugh instead, while using Bing.

I’ve had my full of this year, don’t expect me to be hopeful
for the next, I’ll just take it all as it is. Even if I don’t have all
that it takes, I hope I never lose what it takes to give…
my heart.

Down the stairs, to the left. Creeeak... Step... Step...
His door closed, I creep up... Click!... Creeak... Unlocked;

Closed door, lights dim, dark red with lust;
Hours late, he plays me such as he does his violin.
Bodies tight, musk, and my perfume.
Start off slow, savor the taste, his mouth on mine, non to waste.

Sweat and kisses, bites my neck; Slides in, and plays his deck.

Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.