Remove all my senses
turn me a husk
leave all the remnants
into the dust
with the pebbles
before you
ask yourself this
was I all you wanted
or was there something else I missed?

Elizabeth, I,don’t love you,
But perhaps I could grow to,
If one had the confidence to pursue,
You,
Perhaps beautiful connections would bloom,
Perhaps,
I like your name,
And your face,
And your frame,
And your taste in music is at the very least interesting,
But sending that message to kick it all off?
No thank you and I’m sorry,
To my alternate future self in which I married you girl,
Because I have cut myself off,
It always happens,
So, don’t take it personally.

Thanks for the drop
So Seemingly accidental
Kicked like a pebble along this gravel-road time line

I turn and glance a mirror
How introspective.

My ***** cragged shell
My thoughts tainted by my odious flesh
Mississippi catfish have seen better days

I can only swim backward if I’ve  finally seen the danger
And the warning signs come a flooding
Crawdads taught me well.

A clam diving headlong into the sludge
Detritus never felt so comforting

Sand in my eyes
Sand in my eyes
Exfoliate your corneas boy!

Rotten fruit never tasted so good
Spoiled milk and flies
A dog to its own *****

Thanks for the shock collar
The pound
The castration
Hand that feeds
How sweet and tender-hearted
You cherish your convenience

I am a cursed man
Born dead
Alive and dead once again
As time is slowly ticking

I gasp for air
Salt water
Light to relieve me of crippling water pressure
It’s too dark down here

Why is the end of the tunnel above the surface?
I can’t breathe up there

Throw me a line
Yank me away
To an abrasive serenity at the hand of a fisherman in the kitchen sink

A plastic ring will do nicely
Might as well sink and feed my brothers
Might as well think to myself
Rather than lead others

Might as well smudge my words so that no one can read what I wrote
With the needle in my side

My thorns are innate
Yet I wield them as stripes
My fillet is laid
Across the plate at the last supper

My time as a bottom feeder is through

Please

Make me a machine

Because I am sick of it hurting

When people use me like one.

Please

Make me a robotic heart

Because I am sick of mine

Loving and forgiving.

Please

Rebuild me with metals

Because I would rather dent

Than break completely.

Please

Make me a machine

Because I am sick of thinking

That I deserve better.

I wish I was pretty.
I wish it looked like the sky was reflected in my eyes,
and I wish my skin was smooth like marble.
I wish my hair was thick and strong,
and I wish my smile brightened up a room.
But instead,
my eyes are more gray than baby blue,
and my skin is translucent in some spots.
My hair is thin and short,
and my smile is crooked and far too wide for my tiny face.
I’m still learning how to love myself despite how others make me feel-
because although this body may not be the most beautiful,
it’s the only one I’ll ever have.

The earth
Isn't round.
It has
Mountains
And hills,
Dips
And crevises.
It is not
Defined,
And neither
Are you.


(p.p) 7/22/17 6:02pm

My thumb scrolls up and down upon my phone,
allowing me to waste more time out of my day comparing myself to others;
asking myself questions like:
“why don’t I have friends like that?”
“how come I’m not pretty like them?”
determining my worth by the number of likes I get
on the picture I took at least 50 times over,
because the first one just wasn’t good enough.
I hide behind a screen,
lowering my self esteem with every scroll.
instead of living the life I want to live,
living in fear that I will never be “perfect”,
just like the people I see in my phone.
(I need to stop comparing myself to others)

Is it wrong for me to like myself?
Because you obviously think so
You don't care for my mental health
You're not a friend, just a foe

If my britches get too big
And I look too sure
With hurtful words you'll start to dig
I start to feel so insecure

But I know one thing that's true
Your insides are way rotten
Those things you said are not forgotten
They've stuck to me like glue