You won’t be able to see yoursel- What the fuck am I saying…
You don’t know who I am, You don’t know I exist.
You’d be in the moment, So present, So Bliss-
Until some traumatic thought consumes you,
And you’re forced to think about the stray cat who
I like to call the bleach cat because he’s black and
white with just the littlest bit of copper on him so it
looks like God fell and accidentally spilled bleach on
the poor ca- I’m doing it again…
Straight masking tape plastered across your eyes,
Bragging about how bodacious you are-
Lemme stop you there because I know right now,
Because I know you feel fucking ugly.
“You need some more shape”
So worried about when you gon’ get some titties
You hate your nose,
Yet I love that we’re so damn nosy.
That’s why I can’t wait for you to love these piercings.
One day, you’ll learn how expression protects us from our mind.
As the world tries to corrode your compassion and
The fear of corruption manifests as the contortion of your flesh.
That ugliness is not you… and on the bright side
You get to choose how you feel- Isn’t that exciting?!
A flashbang alerting you of the present
Endorphins Grinding on the pain,
Finally experiencing pleasure without coercion.
The slick slippery scythes slicing through your skin,
It makes me smile just thinking about it.
Wet rags wiping away your worries.
One day you’ll be lying across the operating table.
Gunshots echoing as they break your bones,
Finally achieving your dream of heavy metal.
It won’t be until 18 ‘til you learn what PTSD looks like
It’s in your community
It’s in your classroom
It’s in the photos of xrays, embellished with a dash
Of suicidal mania
and the comments about how fat that ass is
swallowed away by your spam page.
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