Zixaphir• Show poetry

I paint a cruel world. If 2012 is your end, it is my beginning, my inspiration. Death and dismay are the pen and paper of my prose, the verses of each stanza, line break take-a-break-for-breath moments that make the rhyme and rhythm. Each word is a birth, each world is a death. It's just how it has to be.

I don't like things to just be pretty. Pretty is either stupid or a lie, there is no beauty without something to hide. I came home to be ugly again, feels better alone, pretty ugly again, as she says. What is pretty? A complexion? A toned body? Beautiful breasts and a nice butt?

I wonder what it's like to be pretty? Is it like taking a hot iron to the lips that would mock those who aren't? They look at pretty, they complement, they see ugly, they chuckle and sneer? I wonder what pretty has to say. I wonder what ugly has to say?

So I must be cottage cheese. I've rusted alone in my plastic container and have turned to pieces in the murk. Which chunk is really me? Are any of these chunks you? I'm sorry, I'm lost. I followed a rabbit because everyone else said it was cool to, and now I don't know where the rabbit hole ended and this confusing haze of hell began.

But what do I know? I have my porn, I have my perversions. Everyone has their habit, everyone has their addiction. Maybe yours is beneficial as long as someone makes you get some rest every once in awhile. Mine just make me sick. Not like disgusting, but like disgusted. The admission step has begun, so where's my higher power now? He's in my heart, tugging so hard to get me to follow, but I need to find my own way first, I'm just stubborn like that. I jus' lie an stuff.

Sometimes the melancholy stops and I have a clear vision of where I want to be. Sometimes it's where I already am, cuz I'm already there, and other times I'm on the wrong side of the scale catching myself shooting me in the foot again. Again!

So, Ugly, are we one? Or am I pretty now that you know me on the inside? Please, dear God, don't let beauty be skin deep.

Current Thoughts: Where's Jesus when a little boy crying... just needs someone to talk to? I know he's there, I know you might, too, if you believe. But I can't help but wishing the little boy could see his savior... crying with him.

Current Rules of my attempts to sound better:
1) Don't write about a subject previously attempted (by me) without trying to re-frame it.
2) Try to create alternate an persona to narrate.
3) Don't put a word down until it's context has been compared to the rest of the poem.
4) Always look for an alternative word or way to write a line.
5) If one line sucks, the poem sucks.

PROTIP: A lot of my poems suck... xD

Current Musical Inspirations (AKA, These bands are THOUGHT PROVOLKING [maybe]):
Human Waste Project
kidneythieves
Dream Theater
Nine Inch Nails (newer material moreso than old)
8 Bit Weapon
ZeroDB
Hed PE
Koji Kondo