displaying a badly painted portrait of myself to the public
just so that i can be picked on, as i predicted
self-sabotage isn't just a bad habit, but a disease
the only cure to it is self-love, but that's something i can never seem to reach

possibly the pain became too addicting
or i'm afraid of change, i'm afraid to be loved
after all i can never accept the fact that i am loved in the first place
i'm so used to mistreatment, for it's the only form of love i know

I've got spiders crawling inside my head
They've got me like a moth struggling against their webs

And it's so hypnotizing the way I suffer
And it's so comforting the way I punish myself

I'm laughing
But am I really
I feel so dead
So bleak
It feels like I'm on autopilot
I don't even feel happy
I just feel numb

I envy the birds
How they spread their wings
And soar through the sky

Not a thought on their mind
Free to fly far away
Let the wind carry them

But here I am locked
In this small gilded cage
And my wings are clipped

This world
doesn't need me-
can't you tell from its silence?
It's deafening.

Oh LORD most high who gave me life,
I sinned and I apologize.

Pretty women are my weakness,
For I find their bodies wondrous.

Forgive me for what I have done,
Have mercy on your sinful Son.

A pile of mud
moving, re-animated:
you watch a trail of stink

—striking everyone's senses—
I'm leaving behind.

A man of mud walks toward you,
sliding smooth
on the façade of a greasy pavement

coming at you
longing, to solicit
your pity

—my body crumbles
at each step I ****** towards you
while watching myself being torn apart.

I stretch my arm, and then my stiff fingers,
each soaked in tears,
to grab whatever I can out of you.

I disintegrate into emptiness
at every attempt I make
—all futile, meaningless.

My muddied lips
set apart to plead,
but only a screeching noise

comes out,
squeaking,
like that of a mouse.

You,
the one with a shovel
—sharp is the blade—

scream at me,
whacking my clay-man body
with your murderous tool

you hold so tight
—this sight of Mudman
must be hideous indeed

to those pupils of innocence,
burning brightly
with consuming hatred.

    Lying on the floor
    flattened, unaccepted,
    the muddied lips

    that survived the shattering blow
    are squirming still.

    You grind them under your heel
    merciless.

i wish to know
yet i cannot.
i wish to be,
yet i cannot.
such is my life,
my destiny.
i cannot be as close to you
as i wish.
there is a divide.
it will never be overcome.
i do not know if you care
but i do.
please help me.

i have never had to share
not a room
not a bathroom
not clothes
i have never had to share
and now i cannot share my heart

i can't look at anyone with purple hair without seeing you
even though you dyed it silver just before you.... before we.... yeah
it *****, but i'd rather see you in people that aren't you
than not see the you that you aren't when i look at your face

that makes no sense

i keep confusing the you that you showed me
with the you that i made up
and i still don't know which one loved me

but i know it is 'loved'
past tense

i'm pretty sure it was past tense
even before you sent me that text
oh god, that text

i didn't know a heart could shatter so slowly
and yet completely all at once;
like an ice cube that cracks as soon as it hits the water
but takes hours to fully melt

i hear you in all the songs we used to listen to together
and these days, that's most songs i play
even though i finally mustered up the will to delete the playlist i made for you

it was just a part of the melting