*Warning*
I need a reference to the "emo" emotions I am entertaining within myself. This piece is not necessarily for public viewing and will make you puke. Don't read any further, for your sanity's sake, please.
Grotesque
I am monstrous, excessive in anything that seems self-destructive,
and yet too vain to produce noticeable scars.
A walking hypocrisy:
condemning myself to the duties of collectivism,
familial piety, social obligations.
Fearing and simultaneously desiring, with sickening urgency,
isolation.
Without sounding self-piteous or derisive,
seeking only pragmatism and truth,
I know that I am unworthy and ill-prepared for
love. I yearn for it so much it aches, but I
am scared shitless with its tempting
and devastating possibilities.
Bentley San Nicholas
Aaron Brown
Bruce Warner
Muhammed Hatim Lakhiari
God has damned us all.
You first, my dears.
We are hanging on a tourniquet.
aligned with the cosmos of inner torment
relinquishing nothing worth securing within ourselves.
I'm sorry, you've lost, and I've lost all of you.
How can a simple book, a bewitching movie
exhume the pulsating agony that I
had spent years piling filth over in
the vain hopes of composting them into
something less vile and more palatable?
Good lord save us.
I have lost faith in you and in them.
I never had it in myself.
Why can't I return to self-deception?
Why am I sentenced to an eternity of disappointments
and an out of control central locus?
I'm eager to die, but I'm not going to give myself the satisfaction of taking my life.
It's too fucking absurd.
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