man was the first to preform suicide natural born martyrs too sick to bring themselves to eat their own filth our strongest are easiest to fall men were not made to survive but sequential installments are in follow suite in order to remain on top in order to fall farther
I just started a load of laundry In hopes that it will wash away The discomfort around expression From my identity. I imagine little people As they run up and down My pant legs My shirt sleeves My bra straps Steadily scrubbing the internal Abuse from the fabric. They peel off the fine layers Of self hatred and grime Only to leave behind a shell For my body to fill once more.
And, with no doubt, I will climb from bed tomorrow To don these scraps and They will become one with me again. My self doubt and insecurities will Stain my shirt pits and my pant cuffs. The devil raging inside me will, More than likely, ***** my underwear Leaving me in my own filth Until I find time again To do the laundry.
Stick knives in your eyes Fight the evil and horror that lies Incarnate your words Into notes that slur Stick picks in your eyes Your vision will blur Your wings will clip when your love roams You abandoned your eyes So you will guide yourself with not what you see but with what you hear Face your fear To come near and touch the skin of the poor hollow shell you made drown in tears. She’ll make you sink in the void of sorrow.