I am weak.
The dead poke fun at me,
Every time I try to envision them,
Which would be every week.
I am stolen.
Because you can tell me you love me
And I will tell you why you don’t,
And you can tell me why you don’t
And I will agree with you.
Is this what they meant by “life”?
Is this what my parents wanted when they had me?
You can tell me I am young but that doesn’t make me.
My mom thinks everyone is just surviving,
She thinks this is surviving.
I am not.
I am not strong,
Because every time something always goes wrong,
I want to **** myself but I can’t,
Because they believe the pain does not last.
But it does.

I don’t ask why I am not enough for you,
I just focus on how I am not enough for you,
Or anyone,
Because I am stuck in between metal bars,
Always feeling like the heat is too strong in the summer,
Always feeling like something is trying to **** me.
I don’t ask why I am here,
I just focus on how there aren’t any set reasons,
But I never really ask for a reason why.

A reason why I am not okay?
I am prisoner to the peaks of life I cannot control,
Prisoner to the human body, to its brain.
And how who I am and who I want to be cannot connect.
I am prisoner because life is not what it seemed,
And I had no way of knowing.
I am prisoner because I never asked to be here, did I?

My morbidness hides nothing at stake,
Because I still wake up each morning,
To a world that feels like it is moving in slow motion,
To a life that doesn’t feel like my own.
My morbidness does not mean I am going to die,
Because not all of us have the strength,
Not all of us want to have to do it ourselves.

And I have my selves,
Because they are all hopeless yet laughing,
Breathing yet dying,
But it isn’t anything you’d want to see.

You’d want to believe I am surviving not suffering,
Because that’s what allows you to tell me
I have purpose in being here.
That is what allows you to think things will get better for me,
Whether or not they will. (They won’t).
That is what allows you to still love me,
Because I am not totally gone when I am.

But if love could save anyone,
There wouldn’t be a broken me,

There would be no such thing.

Watching the walls turn for colors.

Dead under eyes.
Appliance.
Awaiting.
A stronger taste of Sulk and.
Morbidness entering.
The tiredness because why not.
Forward.
Adore.
Shaky legs for silence.

Garrett Johnson.

There is an amazing form of intense insanity when people say these words "all I have ever wanted was you"
There is a stunning amount of crazy possession when people say "I belong to you and you belong to me"
There is an overwhelming blindness that comes to people when they say the words "Don't ever leave me, I need you"
There is an unconditional feeling of pure bliss when lovers look into each other's eyes and whipser the words "I love you and will forever"
All forms of possession are concieved as morbidness but love is viewed as sacred even it isn't treated like that.

Part 2
_
But as usual
The topic got lost again
I've got a habit
Of losing focus
What a wonderful daydream
We deemed worthy of unearthing
Can two cut up corners
Endure morbidness
And ignore the torture together


A few feet from the closet
Awful Monsters
began to plot  
Sabotage and dishonesty
Launching black bombs

Plus hexes and next level testaments plus test after test after tests after tests

Sure yeah monitor this ****** mess
YOU ALONE made
Take from yo teammates
Next lead an army of hardly alarming fickle ***** to fight
For you
Loyalty aint what you do


What a shame
A bully came in
and basically begged me to beat
Her repeatedly
Not only poking my ego
But
Weakening the way I see myself
Way to ******* go!
wait how did she steal the whole show from under us
Playing puppet master
To cover the lack of self control
Hard to mold an identity  
When you born with no soul

  Part3
___
Now she dictating
This entire ship
Turning partners against
Each other
With a curve of her serpent
Tongue
And makes sure to hiss curses
Wicked whispers that
will worm in
the cracks
Of every door that slams
Behind her
Just another reminder
That its never a matter of manners
It's always these double standards
"Do as I want not as I flaunt"



Meaning she might as well
Own the planet
As long as there no one to answer to
And Nothing standing in the way
"Only the unloved hate"

To Think or to feel
To Hate or to heal
To Share or to steal
To Love or to fear


Fill in the blank
We   too much
and_ too little

Man you's a
Manic nerd
Making spoken word
Mad libs based off Charlie Chaplin speeches
Maybe she's mad at the fact
I got my eyes on my own work
   And that personality comes  natural to me
That irks some people ???

I suppose, bc everything comes easy
besides the easiest things
Which we continue to feign
for
This void we keep feeding
With fake ****
It cannot be taken
Qor be caged, obtained by paper,
or by glistening gold stones  or trophies or credit nor connections you cannot teach it or trade it

Part 4
_
maybe you were right man
Can't believe I  Spent so long asking why would they
Take my crumbs after I've JUST BEEN MUGGED
Or jump me
already injured
unprovoked
So apparently broken
What they don't know
Is how Many minutes I spent
Tearing up in envy
Over what everyone else got
Hopin' I could get a taste
Of the same
Kind of amazement

When all I should ever be is grateful
In these minutes that remain I will
Make full
all my
empty achings
That waste
Time trying to take me down

Too much light inside
For dark dealings
To penetrate my forcefeilds
The healer can never be killed
These shields were
Built too  Too tough
By my guides
To let any evil seep through

Let me be clear my reality is torturous
My delusions
Proof of rediculous ego
disproportionate
To intelligent logic.
Sad deformed
And torn like documents
In storage bins
. That show. Moments
Of my pre collosal morbidness
And internal shore
Of sailors coming home
To get awards for valour
On Normandy shores and ****.

Take awY the course of tomorrow
When my secret is
Clean but born of demons
And ***** that gets me *****
Like of course
Thats all it is.
If I just swallow it.
I have to acknowledge everything
From torment
Positive attraction
Satisfaction and the opposite
The closet kid.
With a tropical climate.
Thats an obstacle.
To any bit of purpose
I'm nervous
Marshall law will be a distraction
From the constant thought
F
That God is law.
And I'm all thats wrong
With all this holding on
I want whatevers law
To set str8 whats wrong
And quit holding on
And change.
Embrace and face my god
Away from godlessness
Or at least stop me
From talking ****
Or least make me more cautious ****

What a wonderful daydream
We deemed worthy of unearthing
Well certainly
Two cut up corners
Can Endure morbidness
And ignore
the torture together??

As Burning birds of a feather

A few feet from the closet
Awful Monsters
began to plot  
Slinging
Sabotage and dishonesty
Launching black bombs

Your oxygen is so toxic
Let that nonsense
Drip
From
Your
Lips
Like
Hot
Spit

Quit with the rhyme schemes
I got caught slobberin'
On myself again
Just as guilty as the rest

But as usual
The topic got lost again
I've got a habit
Of losing focus
What a wonderful daydream
We deemed worthy of unearthing
Catty cut up two corners
To endure this morbidness
And just
ignore/enjoy the torture together