Empty...
Invalid...
Zero...
Nothing...

Well, that's me!
Just a whole lot of worthless nothing
The physical embodiment of invalidity
That's me zilch, nada, nil
But if I'm Null
Can you be the void?

Every day people say
"wow what an interesting name?"
Not really. Not when you know the meaning...
Because...
It doesn't have one!
Haha Anyway
I'm so tired. So tired of it all
Tired of the lies
Tired of pretending
That all this ******* is gonna lead to our happy ending.
Its all meaningless
It's all empty
My head, my personality
Hell-- even my hair and eyes and skin
are ******* void of melanin.
But it's fine
It's cool. Whatever.
It's just that I can't go outside in any sort of weather.
Though I wouldn't either way, right?
Cause I'm agoraphobic and I just want to stay inside.

Well, that's me!
Just a whole lot of worthless nothing
The physical embodiment of invalidity
That's me zilch, nada, nil
But if I'm Null
Can you be the void?

Because I need you to be here
But you can't-- right?
I can't hold emptiness
And you can't love nothing
So what am I supposed to do?
When everyday
My mind keeps running back to you
Absolutely smitten
And I don't know what to do
How can someone like me have any feelings?

Well, that's me!
Just a whole lot of worthless nothing
The physical embodiment of invalidity
That's me zilch, nada, nil
I'm Null--
That's me! That's me!
Just a whole lot of worthless nothing
The physical embodiment of invalidity
That's me zilch, nada, nil
But if I'm Null
Who the **** is the void?!

Eyes blue and I'm at the bottom of the sea
Going down suffocating
Eyes brown-- or black. **** I can't remember
How long has it been since that one December?
When mother and father told me not to bother them
While they filled out the papers to get rid of me
Permanently
Didn't even bother saying goodbye
But I don't care
No, I don't mind
Cause all I need is the empty name they chose for me
Didn't even pass down the name of the family
Yeah-- that's how much they cared about me.

Well, that's me.
Just a whole lot of worthless nothing.
The physical embodiment of invalidity.
That's me zilch, nada, nil
That's me...
Null


Hahaha




Who the hell am I?

When all is done
It’s never really done.
Really.
You often asked yourself
'Will I see her again?'
That’s not impossible in vivid reveries
But it’s still a lie.
Creating that illusion in your head
Reversing time repetitively and everything will be as it is
The way you wanted it to be.

Speculating if your love for her
Was being marked for invalidity
Moments imparted on phases that matters most
The smell of berries in her hair
That fiery gold in her eyes
That emphatic touch that never waned
'But why so soon?'

You tried to run
But you can’t
Despite hiding in your illusory canopy
These fragments aren't real anymore
It was.

You tried rendering it to someone else
But you pushed them away
Not letting them in
But you realized those feelings were real
This new beginning was real
But you shut everyone out
Leaving that void of obscurity in your head

Your heart’s barely pumping
Every second mattered
Contemplating if it’s easy to plummet down from here
Now you’re thinking with your heart
Not your head
It doesn't make any sense
Because you created that
You chose to be this way

You just wanted to be with her
Just one day.
Again.

But you can’t
It’s not real anymore
It will never be.
Because it’s gone.
She’s gone.
**Forever.

I imagine this is how we all die

Give me a reason to live and I might not fall down
It's 'cause of all the lower case t's I hate the big hatted clown

Alone in a burning forest:
I watched you grow, now I'll see you die
The crazy flames will put me to rest
And all the pitiful bikes can see me cry
So why won't you stop to say goodbye?

Is this broken stump a metaphor for me?
Am I balancing on the Shakespearean soliloquy?
Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy is my memory
Sour dreams made wolverine marks on my body

A few pills never killed anyone
Just pop 'em, I'll be your ******* villain

Am I displaced or are they?
Poor soul, has to work on a Monday
"I'm ashamed, I only took a few,
Please help, I must be misunderstood"
They are ignoring my ******

Invalidity

I'm losing my physical self too, this feels so great
My mind is dead weight
I promised them so I guess I should stop being a tate
One step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Another step
Otger steo
Snother step
Morw stepst
Morvw
Moew
Moq



Empty ***** has become divine
Columbine with an atrophied spine

It turns out that loving someone in spite of their appearance has nothing to do with emotions or that eradicating wounds and trauma has no magic formula.

Accepting one's imperfections grant new joy and, because you left a part of it behind, you won't grudge your way out holding pieces of broken smiles. Our hearts, lighter than they used to, carry suffering as we watch the world suffer from everyone's flaw-- but we can't forget how portraits hung themselves in galleries for our eyes to feast on, only to be forgotten once we step out the door.

Admittedly, the millions before and after me and, you-- are as fragile as we all will be.

Yes, it's perfectly fine to choose to live with other matters than force yourself to live with your imperfections.

We are all ugly.

And it is uglier to think that ugliness is a life sentence— a stigma, a scarlet letter, a red card, a dunce cap, a billboard of shame, a birthmark on your face.
But, what makes us ugly?

It's your inability to manifest your devastation from hatred or being at stake upon the brightness of scars— or just simply, if we romanticized modesty.

"You are worth it."

Imperfections are a long time discernment— and not because we allow them to doesn't confirm their rights to judge. Scars are beautiful, so are you. We already paid prices for our invalidity as a living flaw. What bothers you is what you think you are, so stand firm. You are on your greatest form. You are the perfect formula of beauty. You are imperfectly beautiful. You are the treasure of the seven seas. You are made of stars. You are **** brighter than a rainbow. You are the reason tapes continue to play.

And now, as we watch the fountain of misery continuously scrambling our serenity, we are all imperfectly beautiful with a heart of congruity— we have to accept everyone's offer, give them a chance to love us, at least, in a creative way.

—kvg, the ugly romantic you

On summer days
When the sun bore no fruit
For the over heated construction crew,
My father would remind me
Sitting in his 1995 Ford 350
How inadequate we all were
Compared to the golden days of framing.

Or he would praise the highest paid
On a Friday, payday whose checks
We're always there,
To build them up for a weekend
And let them rest from their
Toilings under his sun.

From 15 years ago
I can hear his voice,
"Your never going to learn are you?"
In his solitary voice
That confined a tone just for me,
A destination unknowing
For what a father teaches can sometimes
Elude the son with sarcasm
And verbal seeds of invalidity.

Honorable carpenter,
I remember him never missing a day,
His name should be on a wall
Somewhere,
I ask that I inside of myself
Remember the very best of
The very worst of him,
Which was the side I think
Was also the guiding parent.

May he always be ,
That I rise in the mornings
And still hear his voice,
I pour coffee into a mug
And remember.

May my insufficient ways
Honor him with the haze
He draped over my confidence,
I see my father in a certain way,
The eery silence filled
With his voices.

On summer days
When the heat is too much,
My father still pushes me,
I swear the humidity is
Him breathing down my neck.

We reinvent ourselves, until we are too invented to be ourselves.
We want what we can’t have, we have what we don’t want.
We allow the world to tell us who we need to be in order to succeed.

Under false pretences we are deceived,
Into not being who we want to be, not seeing the things we need to see.
We prevent our dreams from running free,
Instead we nod and agree.
We all want to be, in fact we are all wannabes

We blindly follow the status quo.
We blindly let our thoughts lie now.
There’s ignorance in all we know.
They say we have freedom of speech until we actually speak.
Next up?
We are forcefully impeached.

Not to mention, we claim to see life as this ongoing lesson.
Okay que the tension, How do we fix this giant mess we’re in?

We pride ourselves on harmonic progression.
I have a better suggestion.
We are in our own regression of comprehension, our brains filled with congestion.
Our obsession with possessions is causing a rise in severe clinical depression.
We are compressing our self-expression at our own discretion because we fear leaving a bad impression.

We are afraid to leave our mark on the world.
We are afraid to leave footprints behind;
Footprints beyond the carbon kind.
Everyone is constantly offended.
As if being offended is going to mend all of the real issues we have left unattended, undefended,
Completely open ended-

But please, tell me why you didn’t like that song.
Or why everything is suspect of being so wrong.
Oh. You are offended?
Sorry, I’m just not ******* interested.

You sit and argue all day long, taking pride in games of mindless ping-pong.
Back and forth, spewing words of hate.
Your guns are drawn. Truthfully, we all play along.
We play into the stupidity, into the invalidity of what we see.
Aren’t we supposed to be strong?
You know what is stronger, our need to belong.
The structure of our world slowly crumbles and all I hear is faint mumbles.

But is freedom a possible reality for our society or,
Am I overlooking the gravity of our incapacity.
Is our freedom a complete fallacy?

Stage 1

Grinning elder disappearing disappearing
Loving the time gone by gone by
Slow foxtrot (I'm laying down) down)
Piece by peace tranquillize tranquillize
Reminisce in the absence of hostility hostility
Complete deaf definity definity


Stage 2

Foxtrot is not slow anymore rather it is phlegmatic
Prolonged
Broken
I am still thinking i am
No day is Sunday
No thought is clear
Static
Beautiful


Stage 3

Try
Not playing for record
Jump
(bleep) Remember that they are the ones dead
You can take a break or stop
Jump
Look at yourself you can stop at any second you are here
The atrophied record jumps


Stage 4

Suffocating
No second left no second given to breathe
We're on the other side
This is where the mind meets the instinct and the brain becomes a fluid free of flow
I feel free
Free from thought
Free from thought
The best from invalidity


Stage 5

I care what he's saying
Am I supposed to feel
anything
Recycled
Right there is he sitting again just this time behIND A CLOSED DOOR
RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT RECYCLED REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT
Where am I
Give away
We cry


Stage 6

Alone
Single
The empty *****