I’m wearing a smile,
but the smile’s a lie.
I’m holding back tears,
but my eyes remain dry.

They say the way to the soul,
is seen through the eyes,
but if that is the truth,
then you can see my soul’s died.

I’m emotionally weak,
but too stubborn to break.
I scream at myself,
for being so ******* fake.

No one would know,
how broken I am.
Lying is my art form,
and self hatred’s my jam.

How can you love yourself,
when you hate who you are?
Hiding behind falseness,
like skin behind scars.

Maybe one day,
this disguise will explode.
Then you’ll see the real me,
and my world will implode.

Till then it’s my secret,
between me and myself.
So just look at my smile,
and ignore everything else.

Disgusting
Unpleasant
Rotting
Selfish
Materialistic
Disrespectful­
Weak
Desperate
Rude
Arrogant
Controlling
Racist
Deceitful
Vermin­ous

born in a world with so much to discover,
by the age of eight we begin to wonder,
as we grow up why does a place once filled with colour,
begin to make us shudder

you tease me
with those sweet words
i never know
if they mean something
or if they're just there
to keep me distracted
you look at me
with this strange look in your eyes
is it love
or disgust
or curiosity

I'm feeling so bitter, so ugly.
These gross feelings that torment -
        Like an addict,  I welcome them,
But reluctant, and hating every second.
  I find I cannot let go
Of the passions that I grasp.
             I'm an evil soul, inside and out.
Oh help me, God, I am so lost!
Lost in the confusing swirl
Of right and wrong and grey.
The truth is found by reason,
               But the same can justify hate.
Oh, my God, oh, my God:
I beg for all the things to *****
And out, out, to go and free -
Give me liberty from this plague
      Which is me.

Lifeless
You lay there
Dead and cold

Touches
Light flicks
Dry and rough

Quiet
Not a sound
Scream nor praise

Question
What is wrong
Flaccid and limp

Horror
Hands are filth
Unwanted intruders

Recoil
Shake in guilt
Truth stabbing tears

Boy.
You are atrocious;
You are belligerent.
You cocky thing.
You disgust me.

Boy.
You are revolting;
You are untrustworthy.
You are not deserving of my time.
You are worthless.

Don't you dare come back to me.
I won't let you in.
Don't you dare try for me.
I can't let you in.

Boy.
You are idiotic,
Chaotic,
And the least exotic.

You are flour in the kitchen.
You are dandelions blowing in the wind.
You are useless.

You're the puppet now, and
I hold the strings.

You're the bell,
And I'm the freedom that shall ring.

You are nothing if I say you're nothing.
You're something until I give you something.

I created you.
I designed you.
I gave you life.

Don't you dare make me take it away.
Because, boy, I will.

It's the air,
the waft of coolness that erodes at heat till its steal.
the spread of grey sky; miles and miles.
A phantom limb of memories.
The air isolates and confines,
enough to hide the horizon,
enough for the longing of heat to feel numb,
Impassible; however attempting.
to subside a feeling that makes your gut twist.
A bitter disgust for yourself and the way you let others treat you.
Impassible, yet passive
as you do anything to untangle the sick feeling that lingers.
It's the air,
a reminder on a day like this your worth left you empty.

A bordello of blood and beasts
Takers, stinkers, roaches, pests
Selfish lustful rabid grotesques
******* of garbage, heartless toward guests
Waste of time to reach for them
All they desire is pornographic
Something to get off on
They don't desire to change
Wastes of breath

I dive left before heading right, more times than I care to admit,
Each time I turn right and am not confronted, it feels like rejection,
A small death of little consequence for the life that could have been
So sweet, so superficial, a mini life grew- as I read your bio,
To be dashed in another instant of silence,
I have a tendency to rush into things without much guidance.

Your voice is sweet and smooth- to read,
Imagine a personality that fits- perfectly in the palm of my hand,
Conveyed in small white messages, poked through smaller holes,
Each one I read makes me feel a little brighter inside,
But each little light catches fire and dies, I must confide
That each one I read makes me feel alive.

But only for the moment, so I conduct another,
Small parcel containing another little piece of my soul,
“If you can feel your soul slowly, slipping away, that means that you still have one”
That is a phrase that will lead you to defeat before you have begun,
It leads to me giving away much less than I can afford,
These ‘one for one’ serotonin boosts are leaving me bored…

So maybe we could meet, go get something to eat,
I am sure that I won’t be bored by your topic of conversation,
Or at least I will try and make it look that way,
Because the cold reality is that we have nothing in common,
Except for a lack of self-esteem and an overestimation of our-
Social skills, next to non-existent,
I am perpetually distant!

I am sure that you were terrifically disappointed with last night
Because your messages are written on withered pieces of paper,
A full stop is the most definite thing that there is,
Subtle undertones have a pulse and it beats,
Black blood to and from a dying heart,
I should have known that you were poison, right from the start.