My skin bleeds in anguish,
I do not understand my eyes.
My lips are charred,
My legs are aching.
Perhaps because for a long time they have been carrying the burdens of beauty.
I feel ugly to my core,
It's a truth I have accepted.
I see pretty girls in glamorous fashion,
I look down at my worn shoes and jacket.
I don't like my body.
Perhaps we can exchange our mortal trappings.
Then I could be the beauty with a brain,
And I won't have to compensate
For the ugliness running in my blood veins.
My hands are trembling,
I dislike my ****** structure .
Nobody could love my body, they could perhaps love my soul.
It's a compensation that I always pay.
For If I am ugly and mean,
I think I will be a bigger loser.
Somewhere I have to win.
Pride is a false illusion that I feel for my medals and trophies.
Nothing matters because
My body cannot be loved in this lifetime.

See! See! See the mule as she trots below the bars, carrying the weight of the unicorn on her shoulders
Look at how only pills find their way into her cotton filled stomach
On the stage where she holds the light that shines upon the fairest of them all
So you can watch the princess in the tower,
And notice her cries from the sapphires that fall down her bony cheek
Why don't you spy the masses of she-demons that weep acid over the screen which erodes the paper thin illusions
Spotted illusions, that flash like circus lights which find their eyes upon the pinup doll who struts high up on a tightrope in the air
When the mule stares from the bottom of the stage, is it the thinness of the waist or the wire she finds herself in envy with?

Hear! Hear! Hear how the pig squeals when they ignore her wishes to eat from an empty trough
Listen to her scream for the bones that creak when she moves a little too much
Can she overhear the way they speak of her size, as if there's a prize for claiming the biggest pumpkin
When she tunes in to the radio and hears them praise the waists of corpses in their seats made of lost teenage palates
Then they will make out the subtle sawing and snips where she finds herself cutting off the undesired fat that's lingered for too long
Wasn't she warned that it isn't safe to use a plastic knife to cut off a muffin top?

Speak! Speak! Speak of what you want to see when you look in the carnival mirror that distorts your shape in all the desired places
Then we can **** up to the girls with halos that fit their size 00 waist,
And talk of chopstick legs with an appetite that follows,
So you can brag about how you only eat one at a time
In what manner is it necessary that you chat instead of chew, to distract from your untouched plates!
You ramble on and on about the space that satiates your hunger for beauty
The beauty that has destroyed what I loved about you
When I whisper to myself in the bathroom mirror so full of nothingness
So full...

But I'll still eat the last of the candy in the bag:
Orange bottles that linger my dreams above my lips,
Out of reach,
And out of sight.

the magnified, mascara applied
                                                    eyes of my skull
burn holes in my thighs
                                       mulling over the size of this hull

i chunder my lunch and wonder of
                                                          everyone else
and if they're also laser beaming love
                                                               i­nto themselves

or if they're boundlessly born with it
                                                              unstained smiles, strained bites
maybe they're just born with it  
                                                   no pained bile or insatiable appetites  

either way, i hardly
                              can infer
if my stomach is
                          half empty
                                          or half full

i don't even like you.
(i want to be just like you.)
i don't want to participate in your humiliation ritual
(i'm sick of being the sacrifice. spread someone else's ribs on the gym floor.)
**** conformity.
(i study every movement and take it for myself.)
**** conformity.
(i want to be just like you.)
**** conformity.
(can i wear your skin?)
don't come near me.
(i want proximity and brotherhood like a sick second hunger.)
please go away.
(please hit me without being afraid of hurting me. with all the tender force of brotherhood.)
i don't talk to him.
(look at me, look at me, look at me, please.)
i'm not good at sports.
(i work so hard and still come up short.)
don't hurt me.
(hurt me like a brother would. i am sick of you walking blood through the hall from the eggshells you walk on. i am not so fragile.)
i can smell the axe body spray.
(hit me like you know i can take it.)
please, no.
(i wish.)

Sometimes, it feels as if my arms
are reaching out to the sky
as gravity pulls everything I am
all the way down, beyond the ground
into those little spaces
inside my head
where I scold myself
and say everything is dead
where I run my hands
against jagged edges
looking for reasons to bleed
but even then, like two ropes
tight around my wrists
or better yet, two hands
with an endless grip
hope, or the glass dish on the top shelf
whatever it is, it pulls and pulls
till I flood, and those little spaces
vanish, momentarily

Doubt, fear, and insecurity subside into apathy,
And the ink dries with those dark lies.

I'm a demolitions expert of renown
Star of the show, the talk of the town
A destroyer of worlds they say
Or at the very least a destroyer of one

Voices rang inside my head
When things were good in my life
The urge to sabotage, the want to destroy
The desire to go off-course, the desire to stop

It has been there for as long as I can remember
Guiding me to the dark path
More often winning than being ignored
It was something I blamed for the way things are

But that was just me, my subconscious, my insecurity
Molding my decisions to be as suboptimal as possible
I need to accept, and got to learn accountability
Face the consequences, and fix the broken crucible

I want to destroy no more, for destruction is already here
Already suffering for the mess I have made
What I thought I deserved, I definitely do not
Now I have to make do with what little I have left

Let it stand as a lesson, let it stay as a warning
Beware when you light the fuse and watch the sparks
They may shine beautifully, but they are searing to the eyes
And if you do continue, give the big boom my regards