Can you feel the power coursing through you,
disguised as adrenaline,
when you swing your arm and before the blow even hits,
you feel all your anger and frustration fade, so now all you want is to fight?
You wanna kick and pitch a fit,
till your old ****** arms
are covered up by new scars,
but nothing like that matters because you're the last man standing.
Maybe the other boy, curled up on the ground now
with his arms thrown over his head,
broke your nose and made it even more crooked than before,
but you're the little freak who no one thought could win.
But you entered in
from a world where everyone called you ****
to be the freak who everyone only saw as a ****,
thin-shouldered and quieter than the boys he fought.

Maybe your quietness and meek, weak, malnourished look fooled you and all of them,
for look into your eyes in the mirror and see the gold and brown fighting through the green sheen,
the fire for everything you hate, all the things you're hitting and spitting on when you're through with them,
and when you stare into your own eyes you might recognize yourself.

Don't be fooled, boy, you're weak and you're sick,
your arms aren't thick
which muscle and dark hair,
and nothing about you is real,
with fabricated reactions and premeditated sentences,
all programmed into your brain, which fights itself in its confusion,
screaming, and smoking from the fight with itself, about what should be happening with your emptiness and with your bony chest.

Boy, you're hardly that,
just a *** who stares after the other guys,
but you're not sure if you're gay, because you really just want to be just like them.
Boy, at least you fall for pretty girls,
shorter and daintier than you, with more mellow hearts but stronger emotions,
and passions for poetry (not the kind you possess, rooted in your inability for expressions)
and always with love for another boy, a real boy to grow into a man.

Thursday, October 11, 2018
6:01 AM

I wanna think god's thoughts, and Mr. Newton, Issac said,
After him. So I joined the queue.

Fundamental heretic is what I am.
Jesus was a heretic. Ask any Pharisee.

Evaluation and appraisal, worship and praise,
who told you to do that? A shepherd kid?

A lonely boy under the stars in a peaceful valley,
beside still waters. Like, Bob Dylan at twelve. Singin' along.

Worthy, so worthy, sang the boy, never knowing the role of
y after worth in setting the appraising price or prize.

What's it worth to know death has no sting? A song?
Then sing, soft, don't wake the dead.

I've been floating through life in the middle of the ocean,
Looking for other fish while I'm questioning my notions,
I find myself a pink fish that starts to play with my emotions,
These waves used to be calm but now they're causing commotion,
Intimate, then not,
Dedicate my thoughts,
To a furry thot,
That hasn't yet caught,
The fact that I am in love,
With her and raise her above,
The tide of loneliness to breathe,
Why is it so hard to perceive.

The pink fish darkened to red,
Then slit her wrists till they bled,
Stained with the thought of being ugly,
But she's beautiful and snuggly,
And kind and spreads good vibes,
But she tells herself these lies,
That leads to depression,
And sometimes aggression,
Whether she's conscious of the way she makes me feel or not,
I'll deal with things the same way, living out the plot.

Hidden in sight, just another shadow waiting
Past the light, hanging on the wall, stagnating
Watching, loathing, holding on so tight
Chest constricting, as the night goes on

T o n i g h t

Steeling glances, repeat my selfish motives
Mantra's bloated, overtaking every motion
Sway in time, as the light begins to waver
So inspired
to make this mine

T o n i g h t

In this reality
Things are seldom what they seem
Your lights are fading
Soon you will see what I can see

You will see the whole of me

Can't you empathize with me?
Take another moment, of your mediocrity
As I envy your stagnation
Bloated mess of everything I
Have ever
wanted

T o n i g h t

You're wrong

You are so ******* wrong

In the mirror
Thing's are seldom what they seem
Your poor morality
Leads into a fever dream

The light's been wavering
Won't be long before I'm free
The sun is setting
In the night I will be

Everything

T o n i g h t

Music fades away when you arrive
Spreading the doom with every stride
The stare of hatred locked in your eyes
Sinister cravings behind sacred lies

You want me to beg
You want me to look
You want me to bend
And follow your rules

Judging from throne made out of gold
Taken from people that you control
Deep in your cave, the smell of decay
Surrounded by slaves, you ***** on their brain

You want me to pray
You want me to lay
Down on the floor
While you’re taking my pay

Kingdom of blind, darkness inside
The bread and the wine, poisonous bite
Be sure that someday the people will rise
You will back down when they finally realize

You want them to beg
You want them to cry
You feed on their weakness
That’s how you survive

The blindfold developed some holes by the time
Now we can see what’s on the other side
You made yourself bed with flameable lies
With spark it will turn into ocean of fire

You want me to beg
You want me to pray
You want me to dive
And make me obey

You are destroying the lives with your madness
Leaving them cold, fearful and helpless
You spit out your words, shooting out aimless
I stand up to you now, ready and shameless.

Kingfisher at rest,
Aggression’s switch still twitch;
Uncertain balance!