"stigmatized" poems
I dream of a day
When "coming out of the closet"
Isn't even a thing anymore.
When "straight" is just a direction,
"Gay" just means cheery,
And "bisexual"
Isn't even a word anymore.
When people look at someone
And see a human,
Instead of a stigmatized word
Defining that person's way
Of loving other people.
I dream of a day
When a man
Can hold another man's hand,
Without the people around them
Whispering "Oh my god, is he gay?"
When a girl can kiss another girl
Without being called *****
Or attention ******
Or "barsexuals."
I dream of a day
When love is simply that,
LOVE.
Not something political,
Or religious, or controversial,
But just something beautiful
Between two beautiful
Human hearts.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
I'm hyper and happy with energy to spare
Fast speech, racing mind
I spread love everywhere
A giant smile is all I bare until
a certain darkness
fills the air
You feel rampant with no good rage
Trapped in your sorrows
like a rusted shut cage
You remind yourself you're not crazy
Sometimes you're really happy
or just tired
and lazy
Sometimes you lose feeling in your fingers and toes
Like you're in the basement of a coroner
raw and exposed
Other times, you're on a hamster wheel
sweating and racing
Feeling your skin turn
rubber and chafing
I have no control over my emotions and mood
And, yes, I know that
that's no excuse
I come off strong with my opinions and personality
Which many think is wonderful or an abnormality
I'm seen in different lights
because I don't know which one to stand in
I'm only myself in my writing
and that's the happiest I've been
Pen and paper give me the control
my chemical imbalance never has
I can feel calm and genuine and less of a spazz
I'm slowly accepting
my past
mistakes
and reality
Mental illness is stigmatized
But we need to face our morality
Hell!
Carrie Fisher was bipolar though
we didn't talk about it in that era
If she was bipolar then
I'm just like Princess Leia
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
#1. What in the world
possessed you
to do that!?@#$%^
My god . . . that was so stupid and careless!
#2. Why? . . .
I trusted my intuition.
My heart believed,
emotional logic compelled me.
Fluid, spontaneous from the gut.
#1. You’re crazy.
I would never
put myself at risk like that.
#2. What risk?
Getting harrassed
by the mind police?
They don't own me.
#1. But they punished you.
#2. No, just a little
desperate flaggelation.
#2. But look at yourself
all boxed up,
stigmatized and branded.
#1. You mean the labels?
Those words they use
to define me?
#2. Yes, you’re a bad person.
#1. No, I’m not.
#2. Yes, you are.
... and they argued til dawn
neither knowing
nature does not declare winners
but admires innovation....
like when Magellan sailed off no edges
when Einstein confounded everyone by sailing in his head
when the Wright Brothers lifted off
when Tesla moved electrons
when Christ embraced the centurions
when Gautama just sat down
when the librarian refused to take Catcher in the Rye off the shelf
when Lenny Bruce swore on stage
when Leary and Alpert left Harvard
when Joan of Arc refused to recant
when Gandhi and friends burned their English wool
when Jung declared a spiritual psyche
when the UFC earned a huge Neilsen
so be your own guru
take kava kava instead of Prozac
barter with your hair stylist
and when someone says
you are wrong
ask them why
there are no dinosaurs
in the Bible.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
I refuse to stay silent
I've participated in the day of silence twice now
The first time in 8th grade
We got cards that explained why we weren't speaking
I stayed silent the whole day
And felt quite special about it too
Lunch was a long game of charades
And I thought to myself
"I can't wait for the next day of silence."
And I hardly thought about why I was being silent
To begin with
9th grade I did it again
I brought a whole pack of sticky notes with me
And by the end of the day,
I felt the need to plant a tree
To pay the world back for all the paper wasted
I broke my silence by lunch time
Because my friend needed to tell me
How much she wanted to ask this girl out
And I wanted to ask this boy out
And I went home that night
Hardly thinking about why
I was (mostly) silent that day
April 11th would be my third year
Participating in the Day Of Silence
If I was participating
Which I won't be
Not become I'm homophobic or anything
Oh, no
But I began to think about being silent
And what it accomplished
What does it accomplish?
I realize it's supposed to be symbolic
Of LGBT youth whose voices are forever silenced
Because they decided their life should end
On their own terms
Suicide is a taboo word
A stigmatized topic
I'm not gay, or bi, or trans
But there are nights
When suicide looks easier
But I can't tell anyone I feel like this
Because no one likes discussing ugly things
And we'd rather live with the pretty lies
And it's much easier to fake a smile
Than lose all my friends
So what kind of message are we sending
When we stay silent on subjects like suicide
And students stay silent
Because they don't want to speak in class
And then feel like they're doing the world a favor
Making some political statement
I want to tell the story
Of the girl who got kicked out of her house
For bringing another girl home
I want to share the tragedy
Of the boy, bullet in brain
Because he was born a she
I want to be the voice
Saying "It's okay."
Not censoring my words
Maybe I'm misinterpreting
What the Day Of Silence is all about
But at least I have the power to say
You will never silence me
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Frail demeanor of library index cards
packed with Dewey’s decimals
stared upon so many times
some of you stigmatized with graffiti
“Read This” and “Don’t Read This”
as if the vandal knows
I wish to ****** each one of you
good precise direction you give
care in punctilious hand print
of maimed athenaeum tenders
all with long stretched noses
bridging reading spectacles
eyeing out naughty gigglers
stigmatized themselves by
rolled up quaffs
with pushed in pencils
or retractable ballpoint pens
writing implements held so delicately
while you were ascribed
O index cards of my shielded youth
how you protected me, informed me
Guided me on treasure hunts
where my imaginings still take me
away, in isles of knowledge
information coded in numbers and letters
Yours is the power
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
Her love thoroughly coats
like cat hair on a black jacket:
encompassing from front to back,
tickling playfully underneath armpits;
overwhelming from tiniest to long,
armies of glistening lines on dark planes;
catching gazes close and far,
stigmatized for being so noticeable;
sickening to envious and hallow hearts,
allergic to solemn, broken souls;
and yet despite the nuisance
that comes with such fashion,
it is relieving, comforting, and pleasing
because it reminds me
that the house isn't empty
and that I am not alone.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
Rainbow cascades down the clouds
In all its colorful splendor, only to
Ingress in a land listless and gray.
The people watch in horror as color
Invades them, the contrast, repulsive.
The children scream and run to their
Mothers, pointing at such anomaly.
“Don’t look, my dears. Such filth your
Eyes must not witness.” A curious
Bystander inspects the rainbow and as he
Lay his hands on it, color makes its way
Up his arm, flushing out the pale visage.
His hair the color of earth, hazel eyes, and
Garments, a fiery crimson and tint of
Sunrise. Pandemonium erupts as the
Man of color stands before the crowds.
“Mom, why does he have color?”
“Keep your distance, my dear, he might
be dangerous.” The man of color walks
Down the street as people scurry away
In fear. “You! Hands up!” Commands a
Squad of armed officers and they proceed
To arrest him. Cuffed, he is taken to the
Town jailhouse and studied by a team of
Physicians. “How do you feel, Sir?”
“ I feel happier than I ever felt in years.”
The man of color surmised he was free,
But little did he know he was imprisoned
By the town. Marked. Stigmatized. Reviled.
A freak who lost it all for showing his true
Colors. Ostracized and alone, why live?
But one fateful day, the man of color found
Purpose, and discovered an ability to infuse
Color on any object he chose. It didn’t take long
For his house to burst with vibrant blues, reds,
Greens, and yellows. He hurried outside to
Breathe resplendent hues onto pallid flowers,
And took a step back, glowing with pride.
Onwards he dashed to town to impart color
On the bleak streets and its ashen inhabitants.
“Hold it right there, freak!" Yelled someone from
Behind. "I saw what you did, and I can’t let you
Pass.” A shot was heard and a bullet pierced
Through his sanguine heart. Falling to his knees,
The man of color kissed the ground and
Declared, “May color come to those who love,”
And breathed his last.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Claus, Santa, the
Is a huge enigma to me
And probably many others
My enigmatized sisters and brothers.
Enigmatized, possibly stigmatized,
It beggars logical thought
All the confusion and pain
This concept has brought.
For over two centuries
Surrounded with mysteries
An alternately jovial and evil guy
Brought bounteous gifts, could fly!
Gave coal to the misbehaving,
Or nothing much at all, saving
All the good stuff for good kids
Who were careful with what they did.
We have read of Saint Nick
And Sinterklaas; take your pick
Of which legend blended with what
To become the guy we were taught
Sneaked down chimneys at night
It you kids didn’t sleep tight.
While this is all very typical
It seems rather biblical.
Claus’s eye is on the sparrow
So we must walk the straight and narrow
Or go down into his big naughty book
And he will ultimately decide to look
Askance at any chance of gifts for you
No matter how much begging you do
Write to his eternal rotund self.
He’s an unforgiving old elf.
And there’s that flying reindeer thing
And the way he’s rumored to go zipping
Around the entire blessed world in one night.
That, to me just never seemed quite right.
It’s bizarre and incredible is exactly what.
Do the reindeer have jet engines in their ****
And how can one tiny sleight and eight beasts
Tote those thousands of truckloads at least?
No, the whole thing sounds bogus, in its base.
And that whole North Pole/tiny people place
Where they slave on making toys all the year
And thrive on hot chocolate instead of beer?
Elves must be a rather dim gang of workers.
No union leaders? No malingerers? No lurkers?
I have tried for decades, but it doesn’t add up.
There’s too much questionable in this holiday cup.
I’m going back to the idea I thought as a child.
It’s easier to believe and not nearly as wild:
It’s Mom and Dad behind it all, it’s a big lie.
And my final bit of skepticism? I can tell you why.
The kids in my little neighborhood get given
Gifts with no relationship to how they are living.
If all this hogwash were actually true
Bunches of them would get coal too.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
In my so called startled desperately stance o' interactively yearnings,
So wantonly emerged the worse anomalies by far
(yet the peak-est good time) to come..
I'm so naturally stupefied..so inclined on making & molding,
making'& wanting
As trial & error precipitates;
Virtually stagnant in the stillness o' haven-
Temptation stricken--chaotic world..An idolatry dernier cri chic!
Sets the tone o' a Caring Mom, would tell her kids
Not to be fooled by a a mainstream fool-
A Con Artist as Weird as ***** gets!
For the norm to behold!
On the LOOk-Out
but not lethargic.
Stigmatized out o' the blue, I surely reflected,
In a Dark-Dreary tunnel -- I 'd Die for
& to Root for-serenity subsides!
As I come out, I see rays o' Guiding light, I reckoned ..
"I have given You EYES to see,Ears to hear and a mouth to speak!" ..
but perhaps as indecisively as I may seemed--
It is what IT is!!..,.
SORDID!..so holistic ambiguously odd for me alright.
I speak my MIND fervently...
But as one may say, "My Smile can mean a thousand Ships nor launches its Value than Money ..
For every Smile to give out Comes with
a Territory o' Joy & Hope worth-
Every seconds inhaled-Priceless--
The breath o' Eros exhumed ..
I'd rather be ever Smiling along comes..
Head over my shoulder
however excruciating
can be, in life.. .
Neither in Bliss o' Ecstasy nor Dismay.
Just as though to keep my SANITY intact..
Oh My God keep my Salvation up in Heaven above! ..
so Creepy, too
Cloddish to think.to be canny
At all cost!
& not easily persuaded by the devil.
Lurks to get me..
A standstill Safely & Warm in a timely fashion,
In my own Rosy- Scented room thy PRAY, Oh Lord forgive US ALL Sinners, may GOOD Girls & Boys go to HEAVEN & Bad BOYS & GIRLS go to HELL !
I stand uprightly poised attitude
& be corrected if one varies-
The Age of Aquarius in stateliness!
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 6:47 AM UTC
first they ruined ************
then they stigmatized grabbing
a woman's **** criminalized
sexism & demanded jail time
w/ large monetary reparations
for varied ****** transgressions
& after all that,
the solution is
simply to make better ****
kids making the **** themselves,
between obsessing on suicide & ******
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
I love language
I love slang
I love ebonics and southern twang
I dont "talk white"
Theres no "proper english"
I talk how I talk.
I speak as I wish.
I'm a grammar qween
But dont come for my trouble
ain't got no time to be studdin the limits of your bubble
Because you've made a box
Of your ethnocentrism
the color in my words
Finds narrow minds in a schism
So open your eyes
See past your upward tilted nose
And open your ears to the beauty of prose That sounds unfamiliar
Or feels contradictory
Or has been beaten and stigmatized due to bias and history
Let's grow beyond that
Beyond misinformation
To cultural relativism.
To correlation.
I'll code switch if I want
Code blend if I choose
I reserve all the rights to the language I use.
You'll find me moving with pride, so culturally infused,
my head held high while I drop "aint's" and "you's a whooole fool"s
I dont "talk white"
Theres no "proper english"
I talk how I talk.
I speak as I wish.
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 9:26 PM UTC
I want to be skinny and sexless,
to lay around in sleeping bags under the stars
with friends and maybe lovers
to feel the comfort of skin
and the ear tickling of dreamy nonsense words
of plans and ambitions and dreams and loves.
I want to be skinny and sexless,
to waste my youth- idle- with thoughts that lead
nowhere but to other young holding hands-
fingers, long hair, short hair, scissors.
I want to be skinny and sexless,
with the romanticized and stigmatized idea of
children gone wild-
skateboards and swimming pools and
hot red blood and money burning holes
not in pockets but in hands
and broken bottles and brown paper bags.
I want to be skinny and sexless,
to write poetry and half romantic letters
that swear with my whole heart
"I hope I die before I hit thirty."
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Held in the highest esteem but inept in equality
Unprecedented equality she can never guarantee.
Yet she is dimmed perfect.
Imperfect is aiding the poor at the expense of the bourgeoisie
Yet vice versa of this infamy is dimmed rational.
Rationally speaking, we all can't be rich.
Thus why there would always be tiers.
With the upper tier benefiting at the expense of the proletariat
Yet the humanists are seen as rivals
And stigmatized via false credence.
These men, rooted in selflessness are considered dangerous.
With their movement colloquially synonymous with political abhorrence
As long as we all can't be rich.
Pursuit for Capita is as futile a venture as underwater basket weaving.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
I want to pick your brain for lunch to discuss the ongoings in this world and your views on controversial topics. I want to talk about the various books you read, the various shows and movies that entertain you. I want to know more about your beliefs, what appeals, riles, fascinates and triggers you. I want to know what makes you glow and dim. to watch you paint with different hues, form various constellation and explore the black hole of unexplored matter. I want to converse about the uncanny topics and the stigmatized ones. To know more about the philosophy, biology and chemistry of your existence and this world. I want to know about the intricacy, profundity and complexity around rather than keep to the surface topics.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
I want to be unapologetic
Yet, I continue to apologize
For every difference that they see
Increases the need to compromise
From what I wear to how I sleep
Or what is deemed a healthy size
From then on, I understood
That I lived only to be described
I apologize again for my differences
Next time, I will improve my disguise
For the sake of your own comfort
I will keep putting aside mine
I look up to their condescending stares
They will never be satisfied
I escape into my solitude
I am not something for you to define
I am tired of advocating for myself
Without the support of family ties
Finding more hate in my own growth
As though I live to be ostracized
My attempts to calm my abnormalities
In order to sooth those who penalize
To make room for all of their expectations
To create another profitable merchandise
They have taught me to pursue
A personality so idealized
While they heavily persuade me
To carve a body to sexualize
Only to be rewarded with a life
Where I am only patronized
Filled with the inequalities
That are completely normalized
I retreat into my inner world
The place where I fanaticize
Of a space where I can breathe
With the encouragement to try
I am not broken, just discouraged
Of those who antagonize
Minorities and their differences
Who then live demoralized
I don't want to be given a role
With a life script to memorize
Or submit myself to a narrative
That can easily be summarized
Do not confide me to a label
Just so you can stigmatized
Those labels are not my name
I deserved to be recognized
I do not wish to be put on a pedestal
As another icon to be advertised
I only wish for your understanding
Just enough to be humanized
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 11:40 PM UTC
I felt you, Hemingway
Ghost lit in pale blood electric lights
On the downslope of the Holy Spirit's introspective nightmare
Cacophony in the bathroom stall, savages at war in the gutter
Kings in their drug fueled conquest of modern man's spatial reasoning
Angry cyclops guards the gate to the Fourth ***** Garden of Eden
The learned alcoholic in wino wonderland bursting at the seams for a halogen fix
Cultist camoflaged in black leather combat boots spiked iron altercation
Public domain genocide for the demure nihlist lower class
Never give those ******* the satisfaction
I felt you in Rapture, like lilac swastikas dripping melted candle wax down my frail spine
Blunt force trauma tinged lunacy for the jet engine martyrs, screaming at the empty spaces
For the imposters stigmatized by yellow journalist hype men
And the psychos just along for the ride
Be shameless in your insanity,
Be reckless in your love
Live forever to spite the mad god that molded your angry heart
And **** the sun with your empathy
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Reacting to the new dangerous trend of taking the ****** off in an until then consensual ****** act.
Dear America,
I strolled down your famous Sunset Avenue
Tasted the marine-inspired SF clam chowder
I had dreams about a Hollywood Undead venue
I had in mind Madonna, Monroe and their powder…
Dear America,
You gave me Ginsberg, Baldwin and Brooks
You gave me Hawthorne, Poe and Hemingway
You gave me strength and glory along the way
You gave me all my poems found in these books.
Dear America,
Today I want to tell you about stealthing
No I’m not talking about your crusade and sword
I want to tell you about a new trend and word
Consisting of taking your ****** off in the act
Dear America.
Irving told me he saw a desperate mother– it made me cringe
At the hospital, watch her son slowly pass and leave her
In his arm they gave him an against whatever AIDS shot syringe
This mother planted the needle in her arm.
Dear America,
The gay community was stigmatized because of barebacking
Horses of desire that they decided to tame
And you tell me your youths are, as we are speaking
Making love risking their lives, and no one is to blame?
Trumpets of shame I hear, crumbling the walls of reason
This brand new world to our bodies is nothing but treason
What is that? Is stealthing **** America? I don’t know, say,
What was your reaction when they took your freedom away?
Dear America,
To the insolence of the 1970s youth, the recklessness
This generation responds with an air of stupidity
Go waste yourselves on the altars of dumbness
We won’t move a finger, to again witness this madness?
April 28, 2017
Lyon, France
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
Today's the day of drooping cigarettes,
of foul tasting beer,
of lost love, lost souls
swimming in idealism and cynicism
forever at quarrels with one another
constantly thriving for the theology
of life
of death
of which is more powerful
Which is less stigmatized, fiery opposition
of detached humanity and blazing passionate souls
The acts of life and death
swarm with the wind as decaying beautiful fall leaves
whirls of orange, whirls of black
the contemplation of which
leaves one, pondering the existential why
rendering one, a little loose, a little mad.
The madness is all that's left
at the beginning
in the end.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
I've a sui-generis tendency to ape
that sainted cat from Assisi who lends me
this moniker with mouth-confounding interests.
I cop ascetically tasteless means for living
and an auto-inflicting knack, but we part
weepy ways at the nobler wherefore of his arts.
He self-stigmatized for Faith, I stab at lesser
Love's tortured metaphors, and my plump palms bare
only the throb of a heart foolish for one once gripped.
Move on I must, wholly hand-in-hand with hag Hope
to cajole a jab by bumptious Charity,
touch of her tip flushing blues from my fleshy side.
Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
If you should call yourself a student,
a truth-seeker or breadwinner,
live this life to learn--be prudent,
and absorb the evils of the litter.
Falter you mustn't
for this path you've chosen,
among others christen'd,
to be whipped and woven.
For when even life is beat, it is
sweetened with enough strife
as to never yawn or sleep, that is
but to see a cause to strike.
On the road like the beats;
Do light the fire of Yeats:
For what's a student got to eat
but a diet of dry pasta and black beans?
For who's a student got to be
but a-filling the mold and breaking the seams?
For how much a student's got to have
but a-cashing the last eight dollars in coin?
For what's a student go to know
but abashing knowledge for generations to join?
For where's a student got to go
but when a-coming home given the snare?
For what's a student got for hope
but a waterboarding victim gasping for air?
For how's a student got to live
but in living separate selves into one?
For how's a student got to cope
but to drown the fear with instant 'fun'?
For how's a student got to set an example
but being stigmatized for education?
For what's a student got to show
but to hide existential distention?
For what's a student going to do then
but to turn a-back from all with clout?
For who's a student now?
but, now, I considered dropping out.
And for what's a student got to Bear
but to no fault overhear:
"The Universities are a day care"?
So, hear this, I bring thee to light
It would mean our honest delight
For all to know our dire plight
But as we sing our "Fight, fight, fight!"
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Breath was exhumed from the corpses
lingering impressions.
But all were merged beyond
the futile emotions of the flesh.
For where reflections were void,
only true deliberations stigmatized.
Everything of before,
that were psychedelic illusions.
Reminiscing of stained windows,
recently cleansed of the memories of
yesterday.
Only now were remnant fallen dreams buried
beneath falling stars..
That crawled like maggots
in the heavens
burrowing deeper the more they fell...
And still though falling, there breath still
gasped as death only exhales.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
I watch her from a distance
Waiting
Screaming through my soul
And she doesn’t know I’m there.
I see her in my dreams
Wishing
My heart about to explode
And she doesn’t know I’m there.
I gaze upon her sparkling eyes
Holding back tears
I feel I am paralyzed
And she doesn’t know I’m there.
I watch her walk away from me
Frozen
I will never see her again
And she doesn’t know I’m there.
I can’t forget her perfect smile
Stigmatized
I know she’s somewhere out there now
And she never knew I was there.
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 9:13 PM UTC
Surrender
Harden yourself
Say "I am priceless" and mean it
Because nothing could be truer
We all wish to be beautiful in the eyes of the beholder
On a **** beach
Unbiased and open minded
Immerse yourself in your own aspects, your assets
Understand that in the grand scheme of things you are your own worst critic
Being spoon -fed and stigmatized
Immeasurable passive-aggressiveness
Assert yourself when you're among the persecuting prosecutors in this co-ed world we live in
Capitalize on your inquisitiveness and wit
Ask more questions
You know you haven't got all the answers
Use your pheromones to your advantage
Trick questions coincide with equivocal answers
Are you a runaway train of person hood?
Going off the tracks?
Going out of your way to be the change you want to see in the world?
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
You're so cynical.
Not moved by those crocodile tears,
You frown and scoff dismissively,
As if you've not cried in years.
We stigmatized the nation,
Because you couldn't understand,
That sometimes people just want affection,
Need someone to hold their hand.
So you're drowning in the grave you dug,
As it fills with water and bile
Of those you thought to be smug,
Cutting them with words vile.
You didn't get the memo.
Not everyone is mean,
But of course you cannot hear that,
As you deafen us with your screams.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Au revoir to the fever dream valentines strung out on the idea of an almost always that never was quite anything
To the ash tongued burn scarred stigmatized and delusional messiahs shivering outside the unemployment offices
To the leftist inquisition huddled together for the warmth of enlightenment,
In poorly knit thrift store sweaters,
In drug induced nightmares,
In outdated self referential rhetoric,
In visions of a reckoning that has already come they couldn't be bothered to notice
I can not be bothered to notice
I watch the dead eyed newsman cut his sweetheart a chelsea smile with dimestore switchblade and now he's reading to her manic and weeping from his ***** diaries
She's an actress and I can't feel anything anyway
The spirit is exploding out the back of the skull from shotgun epiphanies and the psych ward prophets are holding on for dear ******* life and I am losing control every second I think about it
I know they'll come for me this time, I can hear them calling for my blood when I turn my ears to the sky
Deliver my eulogy as if you were there to see the end
Fake whatever you have to for the crowd
Paint your idols in shades of gray and your wayward ******* fathers the same
We're building up to some kind of ****** here and I'd like to just get to it
Maybe the lights are only on because there isn't anyone home to turn them off
But I can't make any of that matter now
I have it, all of it
I have a medicine cabinet's worth of reasons not to wake up,
I have enough clarity of vision to know that I can't see anything,
I have a page that never fills and a poem that never lives up,
And I have a sign hung round my neck that reads:
"Days Clean: 0"
The only thing I don't have is something to lose
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC