How can you do this to me?
TO ME!
I open myself and...
I can't stand you!
I shut you out for a reason,
Like a fool I let you crawl in,
Like a despicable deplorable snake.
You pierced me with horrid venom.
You call it love, but we both know,
You are only killing me.
I hate your very being,
but you are so alluring.
Why is your evil so appetizing?!
We had a past, that was before
You had grown into an evil filth of a
Humanly fleshy beast you are now.
Our love was real yes, but real love...
Isn't true love it's just a runner up at best.
I nurtured you in our time of love.
I gave you every ounce of my life until I nearly died of none.
When you left me I shut you out.
I kept you away from poisoning me.
Like a fool I let you in this time,
You made me feel so good,
So happy, and then you killed me.
You murdered me and all you say is That I didn't deserve it, sorry.
You are a pitiful piece of work,
I am ashamed that I thought you were anything more than a hypocritical  snake, and murderer.
A succubus of the worst caliber.
And I was the fool.
But in all this I still wish you well.
I guess I'll always be that fool.

A proud emblem of fabricated fatherhood:
"My daughter and my money go to Lycoming College"
Bumper stickers show the love.

The food had no flavor to it.
There must've been a spice somewhere
But all it did was sting her tongue.

There's noise, talking and television
And dog snores that she can't tune out
Even if it all blends together
Incoherently.

There's static in her brain,
On her palate,
In her ears.

And all the while she's screaming
While sitting silent in her chair.
Screaming in third person.
Screaming pretty words
Like a diary entry,
Saying, "O me, O my!
Look at these woes!"

Scorning those who build crosses to bear
When she's in the assembly line.
Hypocritical martyrdom.
Closet elitist.

Walking contradiction in every way.

I took off my blinders today.

I saw around myself
The life I neglected
In my tunnel vision,
The inauthenticity
Of my behavior.
I saw the box I so happily
Dwelled in and
Make-believed that I was
Doing something
Important.

I saw my hypocrisy in
Looking at others
And make-believing
I was made of
Something different.

Maybe I can be, now.

I've been putting up with so many people since day one;
and I...

No.  Stop writing.

I don't understand the mix of my emotions lately.  
I just want to leave some people behind and push them out of my life.
Toxic*
They are toxic to me- unwanted in my system.

I'm tired.
I'm just tired.

A book shouldn't be judged by its cover they said.
A person should be judged on their heart they said.
Plenty of books go unread
They are too small
Too thick
Too old
Too beat up

People and love have the same fate as a book.
Love is hypocritical.
How can an emotion, that is said to be
Judged by the heart,
Consider the optical cortex's opinion.
Before it weighs a soul
Hypocrites.

Predators are lead by their sight as well.
Killing off prey
In blood lust
That is interesting.
Perhaps lust is the issue
Their eyes devour what they want
While the heart is left empty.

If I lose weight am I subscribing to this belief?
Am I not fit enough to be loved?
Would being devoured by predators truly mend my heart?
My windowless soul bleeds.
While their eyes ignore me.
Am I changing myself to be loved, or
Can love change itself to find me?

Your skin wasn't so soft
Not the softness you'd find
In great love stories

You didn't always have the
Words to say something
You fumbled with them
While I babbled

You snored -
Only a little, I promise

Yet in ways I found
Them so endearing
Perhaps it was just you
And I find myself
Tripping and tumbling
And scrapping ideas
Of not needing love
Or just not being aware

Because I'm just yearning
To brush against that arm again

Stories be ******

Live like it's your last day,
They say
Give it your all,
They say

Take your time,
They say
Don't rush into things,
They say

Relax,
They say
You're still young,
They say

Happy birthday,
They say
Go **** yourself,
They say

Be happy, no negative vibes here,
They say
You're worthless, I didnt need you anyway,
They say

Live love laugh,
They say
No trust,
They say

I hate hypocrites,
They say
You're the main one,
I say

Every time the butterflies come,
they crawl up my throat and start to choke me
but it's a good kind of choking,
like scratching an inch even though it makes the rash burn
or liking the pain of dotted blood lines on my skin
after a long day of holding in monsoons and earthquakes
beneath calm serenity.

Or like telling myself I can never get better
even if a part of me knows, knows I can.
It’s like deciding never to speak again,
or stop eating just because you can.

And why is it that pain tastes so much like love
when I willingly dress myself in it,
yet someone lays a finger on me
and I feel the same way
when my friends are mistreated
and animals are abused,
I feel a surge of fierce hatred
throughout my whole body
and don’t you ******* touch me
ever again.

I believe the world can be better than this.
And what does that say about me?
Does it make me a hypocrite in a sort of vague way?
Because I keep wondering
if I do things without thinking
that another me would hate me for.