YOU WANT FUCKING HONESTY?! ITS YOURS
eat it and vomit, you cunts.
gross dreaming with the cock sure screaming,
angry and horny.
stupid and ugly.
a grown man who doesnt know his ass from a hole in the ground.
a man child, with no responsibility,
no way of knowing,
no reason to try.
angry and alone,
a frustration despite sexual flags,
he tries but can’t make an escape of what must be mistaken.
a child in the hands of garbage throwers,
grown men with nothing to offer,
grown men with careers,
nothing like himself.
he needs an exit.
he needs a kindred spirit.
he needs something foreign.
he requires a mind that means nothing to the masses.
cancer is the death of a dream.
cancer is the fester of uncles fucking,
children in a peer group abusive,
with no motive, despots with no understanding
of future damage.
hidden faces in selfies,
lackluster promiscuity with those willing,
i cant get it up and im ashamed and afraid.
it takes a fifth, but i can be honest.
something outside myself,
someone telling me to be me.
someone claiming repressed memory.
let it go and move on.
theres nothing left after you admit defeat.
theres nothing left after admission of of abuse.
prepubescent mouth fucked, stuck and blocked,
airways choked, more or less repressed
until an angel takes cock in hand
and makes it okay.
something shifts,
something happens and life goes on.
vague and disputed,
splayed, frayed wires touch a soft spot.
it hurts but its exciting,
rewired and missing the target,
someone destroyed me in my youth
but im still here.
flashbacks and dreams disturb me more by the day,
im starting to understand where i come from.
disaffected and disavowed,
misunderstood and discredited,
accusations of insanity abound.
something is is bubbling,
my blood boils and its getting hotter,
some perverted splendor,
where will it end?
there isnt anything left for me,
biding my time alone.
theres nobody to waste my time with .
nobody worthwhile,
i have become terminal.
alone and ready to die,
let me go,
over and out,
ive played operation, clue and mall madness,
none of it was a fit,
let me go.
i have a stop watch, counting my laps,
beating my record, i club my seal.
seven of them sparks the revelation,
im ready to go.
LET’S GO!
skipping track marks i receive the award for least likely,
to what?
succeed, maintain, and be free.
something inside, something dies every year.
its an octave, build up the scale and let it fall,
a decrescendo.
the answer to climax. the answer to abandonment.
something else to save the self from honest
expression.
something to pretend the id is not at fault
and the others made you what you have become.
let your defects become who you are.
let your misgivings define you.
despise those who know nothing,
let the pretentious fall by the wayside,
ADMIT TO BEING RAPED.
I WILL.
ILL BE THE FIRST TO RECOUNT MY EXPERIENCE OF A DICK IN MY MOUTH.
ill be the first to admit my sexual misgivings, and that i cant get it up.
im no longer afraid. i let it go.
fuck it.
i was mouth raped .
i was not the only one.
i am not the only one.
i still want to die.
im still going to kill myself.
im waiting for the stop watch to hit its bingo.
we got a winner!
its getting easier to babble to the cunt lying next to me in my bed.
without missing a beat her snores punctuate my sob story,
accused, victimized, and abuse.
its everything we pretend to never hear.
filled with buzzwords, spurious to those who were never there.
triggers, etcetera, i look at gore pics to feel better.
i read bullshit and contain myself in the fallacy of “it could’ve been worse”
i pretend nothing happened,
i get drunk seven days a week to pretend nothing hppened.
i fuck people who don’t matter to pretend nothing happened.
and then i stopped everything.
battery removed, i cant contact.
drug people,
writing people,
fuck buddies,
etcetera.
they were all cut off from this disturbed husk of
human refuse.
i killed my social life to understand what i am.
i killed my social life to understand why i ran
from my past,
the horrid past.
scars on my arms,
sex i regret,
people who donated substances,
people who helped me in my need to die.
im ready to go, but i still need help,
some dose that will help me go,
some “friend” who knows how to help,
someone who will kill me.
stormy weather makes for hard exit,
busted on the classic hose in the tail pipe.
yellow eyes, with uncertain outcome,
its hard to forgive the sins of a sycophant.
something else to take the pain away,
the memory and disturbed shock treament of garbage.
the feeling of my fault, the last stand of an emo kid.
self harm and self deprication to groups of hippies sub standard.
œ
something like a eureka moment,
similar to understanding,
similar to brain bubbles of acceptance.
