In the fake village

where no one lives, the garbage --


truck comes every week.

For everything fake -
Let me feel it one last time
Kismet sweet,
Villas bleak
Marble sticky -
Granite meat

Let me **** the vein of glitter streets
Surf the sadness,
Salt rose glass rush

Teddies haunted with softness beyond us
A ****** blue boldness that begged you to crop love -

Titan arum-sea saint
With your blood like rain,
Inhaling all the darkness
Freshly cut grass cane blade;

Remain in light, an amber blaze...
Curtain wall shatter all skies for our pleonectic pace

make-up here
makeup there
following the trends
next week it'll end
shopping to spend
daddy's money to rent
a fake smile
a clear skin
no underchin
jewelry and rings

so boys will see
straight from afar

what a dream you are…

fake

I hear "goodbye"

while you say

"stay another mile"

but girlie
don't you see
you're running a marathon

with high heels sweetie

It started as a joke,
Some harmless fun.
Then the air cleared from its smoke,
I no longer wanted to run.

What’s this new desire called?
I’ve never felt this way before.
My heart now feels loud and stalled;
This is something I can’t ignore.

This must be love,
I see her as a dove.
She lights up my world,
Where shadows curled.

Am I real,
Are you real,
Are we real,
Is it real,

Can I feel?
Do you feel?
Can we feel?
Does it feel?

Is the sky really sunny?
Is the water really running?
Is the wind really whistling?
Is the sun really blistering?

Are we products
Of a conduct
That relinquishers
Are fond of,

Are we subjects
To a subject
Where the solution
Is reject,

Are we fools
To a tool
That doesn’t know
It’s being used,

Are we falling
For a faux
That’s already been
Exposed,

And do we really know

What’s real?

I know it sounds  cliché,
But it feels like
I've lost an important part of myself.
As we're sitting next to each other
But I'm writing about our distance.

It feels like the metaphors have been wiped away,
Nor any simile comes to play,
Maybe it was always supposed to be this way.

It almost seems pointless,
It seems to be in vain,
As i try and fail to find the write words to express this pain.

I laugh in rooms where silence grows,
A cracked facade that no one knows.
My ribs are cages, rusted tight,
Still I shine in borrowed light.

A travesty in moving skin,
But look how wide I draw the grin.
Don’t ask me why the echoes sting,
It hurts to smile at everything.

I know this seems like contradiction
But I wish I wasn’t just my fiction
I wish they’d closely read my pages
And see through my false scenes and stages

I wish they’d squint and try to see
The text that’s true, that’s real, that’s me
Instead they glance just once, so quick
Not reading pages stacking thick

I made this front, it’s me to blame
I hid my truth in fear of shame
I feel regret as people glance
Towards my false curated stance

The narrative that they all read
Is someone else, not true, not me,
My want for love drove me to burn
All that I was so love was earned

I crafted quickly my own fiction
Showed off my hollow, fake depiction
I forged and locked my gilded cage
The “pretty” hides the rotting page

If someone picked me up right now
And saw past all lies I allow
I don’t think they could even read
The mottled text as truly me

Words shifted from their origin
The lies, the stains that I poured in
Blur with the truth, no one can tell
Not friends, not loves, not my own self

I changed so much to fit their wants
That I can’t read my own **** fonts
I killed my truth, now none will see
The faded, burned, authentic me