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.

I didn’t get the memo
to evolve -
stop sticking my hands
into the fresh-fire,
as if some part
of my visceral mania
wants to ****** my knuckles
with the ashes of Prometheus.

Every day that I don’t crash my car
is a white-hot remnant
of the suffocation of boredom,
like my life is on pause
until I’m nose down in a gutter
or in a line that I keep trying to cross.

There’s evaporated acid rain
condensing within every hangover,
each time the sun
rises; I rip down my fingernails
climbing to reach it,
gasping down
at the pulsating impulse
to make something terrifying
out of paper maché
and broken bottles
and bruised ego.

In every grave, there’s an I,
subtly watching
for the apotheosis;
a moment of sickly-yellow violence
igniting once more
any excuse for a fight
for fame,
for a feeling.

i hate people more than
i hate myself...expect you
you're a good one

i don't understand
why you hate the person you...
are my golden hour

How many times will I wash my face to feel satisfied with the work Ive put in?
How many mirrors will I have to look in until I’m comfortable in my own skin?
Will the weight of the world be lifted off if I start at the gym?
Are all the troubles I face, a reflection of the **** that I am?
Or no, are they just here? a constant reminder that if I interfere, I’ll just be more tired, more full of what I will fear, if I lose control of stopping....

I'm jealous of those people
Who end their days so well
They don't have to think twice
If they are living in hell

I live constantly in pain
always feeling agony
I don't feel sorry for myself
I made myself this tragedy

Every night before I sleep
I have a habit of overthinking
"I shouldn't have said that"
"Was I too much?"
"Am I really not enough?"
These thoughts linger my mind
As I feel forgotten and left behind
but I have no right to complain
I made my life this way

white surfaces flash in fluorescent lighting –

this is no opus, heaving on cold bathroom tiles,

blood and grain against porcelain,

convulsing creature in all its grotesque obloquy:

bleary and snotting. four-walled, windowless, antiseptic vivarium;

life crawls outside. it thrives, it devours, it fortifies.

inside, here, it repulses. ****** effluvium of all kinds.

sharp shrieks of skin across glossed floor, tears soak

before the cliff of the jaw. nothing stays.

wiping drool off the sterile sink and sweat off my knotted back.

snarls choking into sobs, sobs gasping for air.

this is no opus; blackening from corners,

the repugnant vignette held between fingernails –

for the contagious odium of the resigned abhorrent

bleeds and drips and stains.

neglect and rejection strewn like pearls,

pearls, worth nothing, feeling everything.

a fly buzzes in the stark fluorescent light,

and blackness climbs in. blackness consumes.

Pile stone after stone upon my chest
I deserve not the breath that i draw
Brittle bones house a pulse ever softer
As they splinter, caress
With the grace of the moon descending
And force of the guillotine's blade
May the echoes of my death rattle fall upon deaf ears
And be swallowed by the lapping waves

May my bones please the hounds
May my flesh feed the ground
May my heart cease its ache
May the sun rise again

Oh sweet sleep
Still and unending
A calm descends upon the embers of being
The coals cratering my eternal home
As deep as need be to bury these shameful bones

feel the burning in your chest and enjoy it
the pain, the tightness, the lack of air
you deserve to choke on it
now, dont pretend like you care

sinful silly girl when will you learn
you create chaos wherever you go
you can never escape these burns
so dig in deeper, nice and slow

is self harm still self harm if its emotional?
and do you even know why you trigger yourself?
what a dumb baby *****
stop ******* asking for their help

**** in the horrors of your mind
that's it, breathe the hatred into your veins
inject yourself with your own lies
like an ****** addict just numb the pain