I feel as if I have a tainted mind, I reminisce about a false narrative to make me feel in constant pain and disgust from myself. Self loathing has became an art to me, and I can’t prevent the ruminating thoughts. Redundant for years to months to minutes of my mind putting horns on my head and saying I’m pure sin. My skin painted red. My eyes are black. I demonize and reflect then demonize again because I have blamed everything that has happened in my life on myself. My heart cries for me to stop but my mind has drawn to the conclusion that it must be this way, it is this way. It feels selfish of me to be around others because they can smell the self loathing lingering around my body. I don’t know if I try not to hate myself or if I ignore myself so I don’t have to come face to face of who I’ve become and what I’m not.

He preens my feathers,
fans my flames-
he lets me grow, he lets me destroy him.
I am happy.
.
but you still flip off my street when you pass it.

A paper cut

A ****** machete

Became a thorn on the focus

Became the pause on the focus

A wail of the wee ones

A whirl on the freeways

Became a soft smothering

Became a daft splattering.

Shadows settle where warmth once stood

On windowsills

Beneath quilted covers

Emancipated, gaunt figures now linger there :

Reeking of desperation, to make sense of the cold.

We'll hang up our cowls & capes

In the thick of the collapsed ruins

Cranking one last tune on expired phonographs

Groaning as osteofluorosis plays his merry tune again

Still, gazing with the vast emptiness of long-lost eyes,

As a long lost chord haunts these halls again, we mutter :

"I can hear it now, like I heard it then."

sometimes I lay awake at night
and fixate on things I shouldn’t
whispers of my own transgressions linger

although it seems disingenuous
I am eager to fill the space
between this world and the old

please ward away the chilling breeze
make them apologize
because silence was one of my worst decrees