Claw a bit closer to me
Embrace my malevolent ability
This will help you feel a reality

You feel so safe without wonder
But pine for authenticity
As you rot inundated by false benevolence
You live in such gleaming
It’s insanity

I’ll pluck you from this numbness
By fogging your false sun with a dismal filter
And I’ll *******

I am not what you expected?!
I am not what you wanted?!
I am truth. What you pine for idiot
I am tonic
I will make you feel something real

You’re scared of such a fiend
Only because you smolder in this apathetic medium

I’ll make you uncomfortable
I’ll make you feel like ****
A relief from your dystopian existence
This dissonance will wake you from your slumber

You will gulp from my malice
It will quench your thirst for authenticity
You will feel emotion
You will feel hatred
You will feel bitter sadness
You shall no longer be vestal like your peers

After I deflower you of such “innocence”
You will no longer mime false emotions
You will venerate happiness
You will cherish sympathy
Because you’ve been uncomfortable
And you’ve been in vacuous darkness

You like darkness.
You need it.
It makes the light more dear to you
In fact.
It illustrates your reality with such a fine and tenacious brush
That if it were replaced. You’d be blinded by the blurry falsity it leaves in its absence

For the sake of reformation
Don’t return to ingesting insipid entertainment
Don’t return to experiencing life through media
Digest honest art. Not pretentious art.
Not dull art either
You’ll live much happier

And I won’t have to violate you again my lamb

If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.

Self preservation
makes enough sense,
until I rise
from ancient fears.

A smile
can't crack
to
predators
on the
attack.

A smile
in heart,
in
spirit, soul,
against
the world.

The cruel will turn to worms.
I might scream, nail under nail,
but I'll not have failed myself.

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may get to you,
but,
so what?

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may come for you,
but,
so what?

My time is mine,
and I, don't have time
to fight systems
of imaginary lines.

(I paint them)

I'm surely turning, slowly,
into worm food, too.
I don't want to waste my time
with you, fighting.

If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.

Dip me into the flat line,
under the frame,
where the sun sinks,

The longest day of my life suddenly
ends with a twist, turns
out, your venom

burned negative space
in the lid and
let out the damage

you did.

I look at the stars and wonder,
when will I become one?
Will I ever become one?
Will I ever get to shine like it?
Will I ever get to make someone smile?

I look at the stars and my heart begins to beat faster,
my blood is rushing and my tears start to run down my blushed cheeks.
I have so much hope in me,
so much hope that can only be visible if you wish to see.
Just like the stars,
I'm visible,
but invisible to the reckless eye.

You see the moon; the brightest star,
but you miss the tiny me that's right beside.
However, I promise you.
I promise you that one day I will shine,
Not like the moon,
but like the sun;
the even brightest star.

Let me take your eyes, I'll
give you my teeth.
Who wants brown rot? You.
Wheat speckled emerald
rings encircle
obsidian space.
Just one of the things
                  I love about your face.

Out of the box, out of the realm,
she is heart to my sword and my helm.
Bowl of the bread, bowl on her head,
she permits me the grand privilege:

learning her will, learning her pain,
learning her joy and her disdain,
lines into dimples, lines into jowls,
lines of a smile and lines of a scowl.

Alive.
What's
the point
in knives?
A tool.
What's
the deal
with deals?

If I
never
get caught in
one more
crossfire
conversation
about
only
the mundanities
I would
lose my
edge, but wouldn't it be nice?

If I
never
get trapped in
gossip
circles
again, though,
I
would be
happy.