I see in your eyes,
Two shallow pools of white with coffee mixed in,
I tremble before them,
You judge me too hard.
I hear it in your words,
The desperation reeks,
Its care you say,
I don’t feel it anyway.
I see the way you are,
Insincere and shapeshifting,
You’ll love conditionally
‘Don’t worry’ you reach your hand out
Each time we touch I die a little more
Its scary out there,
Look in the mirror to feel safe
My mind puts up a fight
So I need you all again
The pity holds me well
Well enough to try again

Woman have
                  more ***** then men
most of the time.

       It's pity that

men are bigger *******
                      all the time...

It smells like September outside
The cold weather is setting in
We sit and we wait
and we speak and relate as we wait for Augusts end

I walk alone in the cold soft rains
in the shadow of the clouded day
And i stare and observe
till everything blurs
except for the thing i chase

I watch as it passes bye
and the fall brings back bad memories
but the months speed away
September, October, November, December
all gone with the fray
and i take a look outside

January passes next
A cold depressing beginning for the year
I wish i could say this was the last
Of the sad months that would come to pass
But happiness seldom appears
So ill sulk in self pity
Ill sit without pride
till once again
it smells like September outside.

It was a day in the village, like any other day
The sun was bright, the ground was baked.
A man came wandering down the dusty way -
His face was wrinkled, his clothes were soiled,
And under the big banyan tree he sat himself.
Seduced by the shade and weighed by fatigue
He fell fast asleep, with his hunger growling.
A farmer passing by felt pity for the man,
And left him a portion of his noon-day bread.

As the farmer dug deep, later on that day,
His barren field would yield a *** of gold!
In delirious disbelief, he took it to his wife.
The word spread like fire: near, far and wide.
A crowd soon gathered to envy and inquire -
“What did you do dear man, to deserve the ***?”
Thinking back to the events that day, he said -
“I gave an old man under the tree my bread.”
“He must be a wandering wizard!” they said.

The man awoke to see the bread, later that day.
Thankful and pleased he began to eat it away.
Soon it was gone, but his hunger still lingered
And it growled in anger  - “give me more bread!”
Just then he saw a mob approaching ominously;
“They'll lynch me, for they think I stole the bread!”
The mob duly arrived, but carrying more bread.
They jostled each other to solicit the old man -
*“Take my bread and give me a *** of gold instead!”

Do you want the truth?

I ideally  I would want
A taller than me
By much
Blonde haired
Blue Eyed Boy
With no dark secrets
Or spare tickets
To the club

But what I keep getting
Is a dark haired
Dark eyed
Know it all
who drinks

till hes drunk

Smokes

till hes gone


And bleeds on the outside
Looking in

Listlessly
and amourously

For the first month.

And a quarter of the
Half.

Then he turns
Rambles softly
Moving On.

Oh What
a sweet tragedy
love.

And oh how stupid
we are
for
wanting
it.

I want to see how easy it is to break... to fall
to know what it's feels like
when it has become impossible to stand up
it's this same defeat
that's settled in the despair of loneliness that intrigues me
how a human spirit can be so starved
and defeated by its own transgressions
while simultaneously surrendering its will and desires
just to watch them crumble down a slippery *****
inevitably leading to death
not by separation of the body but of the soul
I want to feel that defeat but not out of self-pity
out of pure, anxious curiosity
I find comfort in the reassurance of this predetermined state
since I know where I'll be at the end of that slippery *****...

                                               alone.

yes it's right, i am an abomination
created to gods own image
i am a gorgeous African queen
black, with ***** hair
fearless words, not watered down by lies, i speak
freedom my journey, never a servant
no other copy of me created

you look down at me
speak rough and loud
treat me like a beggar
down play my ideas
ignore my 150% at work

all this to keep me in my place
i pity you
your eyes tell it all, i need a beating to be put right
snake ***** gets kinder eyes
see how nice uneducated barbarian writes

keep me in my place?
keep me in my place!
keep me in my place

I have tattoos all over my body but you can't see them all.
They are the words that everyone has ever used against me permanently embedded into my skin.
The judging stares and wandering eyes that make me want to cover my body and hide away.
If you could see them you wouldn't look at me the same ever again.

Heartless- Bold and Italicized across my chest.
Regret- Hidden behind the back of my neck
Fat- Underlined across my stomach
Desperate- Beautifully written between my thighs
Lonely, Pathetic- split between my wrists

The words you keep saying, the words you pretend you don't mean are covering me.
The hatred I feel towards myself can never be fully seen.
If I even opened myself up just little more for you too see you would look away with pity and shame.

Remember this the next time you tell me you regret having me.
Remember this the next time you tell me I am heartless or fat or ugly.
Remember this the next time you tell me my self esteem has ruined my relationships.

Because just beneath the surface lies the art that isn't shown to the world.

Learn to write again
learn to type right
first time in 3 decades of life

I want to write closer to when I think
speed time, to slow it
make it feel like I do more
like I was in my teens or early twenties
****, these days 3 go by and it feels like one

I count my blessings to build confidence
Life grows more cruel but
I might win if I act like already won
Chaos magick, nay we do not speak of it

You forgot to pretend
to suspend quests for rationality
No longer moved by a book or film
We conditioned to be unconditioned
only to realize we ought to been wistfully in the herd
the whole time  
We're the Bodhisattvas forestalling enlightenment
to get drunk with the butchers
after decades of sober high ground
We're the over-analyzers
lamenting our anachronisms in self-assuring
new philosophies
Either fully embrace one or drop out of being smart at all
the only tolerable choice to start to enjoy life again
No, no it's a false dichotomy
I want to be the eternal well-wisher
no matter the decadent displays

The shared dream of a soon to be future
We scavenge and defend
through pockmarked streets
make shelters amid crumbling concrete
We forgot how to imagine a secure society
Measured expectations and social safety nets
they took it all away along with our balanced serotonin
I used to get all jazzed up over a library book
but now the images promise us much more bliss
right around the corner

But it never soothes
never comes close  
We cannot buy the contentment you claimed to offer
so we'll get it in collapse
We'll be sniped, starved, and deranged
but the thought of that life
makes us whisper excitedly to ourselves
"finally something has happened to me."

I, the eternal well-wisher
will wag no more fingers at preachers of death
Neither will I become them nor pity them

They call me the deaf reaper,
The not-so-slim teacher,
You want a lesson?
Here ya go, let me beat ya,
I'm the best, I'm the worst dressed,
Ill fight you over your address,
I got arguments, I've got lies,
I ain't hearing your *******,
I'm making my own, and I Direct,
I do not listen.
I scream, to others but not to myself,
I'm half as great to me, twice as awesome to you,
I pity no fool,
I look at ignorance with a mixture of disgust,
And admirance.
I wanted to be a leader,
not a professor,
But profess this, my dearest,
queer hater, oh not gay,
Just weird and unneeded.,
Who will follow, A modern day ******,
Living for greatness, for evil for death,
no matter what else has been heeded.
Who can scream with the anger and the authority,
Oh, that is me, the deaf reaper.
Grim, grim!
Oh, but what a grin,
Smiling oh so devilishly,
Too deviously,
that even in his now once brightly lit din,
now on the road to recovery, through the death,
of his dearest emotions, friends,
family and hearing,
Only now can he see the vision,
But the vision was sent a year too late,
How cruel then, is fate?
Now, left with one penniless gift,
Lovely, quite irate.
Poetry, boys and girls,
Like what you feed to the dogs,
regurgitated meat,
infused with vitamins and
milk straight from the teats,
of an unwanted *****,
come here, a little closer,
if you dare meet fear,
Ill eat you, oh i'll eat you,
and lick up all your tears,
until only one fluid is leaking,
and your lips then smear,
for me all for me,
For I am not myself,
Only the images and lies,
Of beings far incompare,
what does it mean,
what does it mean,
oh Ill tell you little bean,
bean bounce bounce for jean,
look at her eyes, lustily,
She is a hand, the hand on the face,
watch it as it shivers, just out of place,
still in control, if only she could see,
Her hearing clouding her vision,
Of the demons in me.
No, no, for ever devoid,
take away the rest,
of these worthless toys,
You call feelings, given to me,
To ruin my intellect,
And degrade my being.
I will not let the good win out,
Oh I hate the light.
I will change the definition of good,
I will give death real meaning,
My own.
Listen, listen closely,
Listen to my tone.
It is the whispers, the whispers,
of the subconcious untold,
That part of you, deep inside,
that when seeing the hero win,
Says "well it woulda been cool to see,
the villain preside."
So give me the world, mind control,
and more. Oh look into these,
deep blue eyes, these,
fragile snowflakes,
these *****, *****, charms.
Feel my pain and agony,
As I disregard them,
Legion, consuming evertly,
Yum, Yum, I say with a sway,
But it is not food that I eat,
Nay, Nay, for the Deaf Reaper,
It is on another soul, another mind,
Another worthless human body,
That I PREY.

Sometimes I miss her,
Because she at least believed in something.
She had hope for herself
In spite of anything she felt or had to suffer through.
She found the worth in it.
She cared so much.

Then I pity her,
Because of her naivety
And how in the end, she was left with nothing.
So, I buried her.
Deep down, she's still there somewhere,
If you'd like to take the time to dig,
But she's barely breathing.
She cared too much,
And that's why she'll soon suffocate.

The vivid reflection of myself glistened in what was the sea of my own self pity to which I found myself immersed, for in this moment of time if negativity was my oxygen I'd be suffocating in the distorted reality that I once called life.