i sit here on my bed listening to birds repeatedly chirping the same 7 notes in direct succession screaming its head off for others to hear

there are others in the background but i dont hear them as well

my father’s eyes still cut into me deeper than i’ll ever have the balls to with stainless steel razorblades

my sentences in real life are sputtered and misunderstood because i dont have anything to say to people i dont want to be around

and its transferring over into the way i connect and talk with the people i love

im depressed because im too lazy to fix it. i’d rather throw a fit and cry and scream and kick things and lose my temper rather than try and find the words to say

its not better this way. i want to scream from mountaintops roof tops church tops on top of the world and tell all the people below me that im not crazy

im not ccrazy i just dont have words

i used to have words

i used to make celine smile pretty, what a pity all i have now is a burnt laugh

i hate myself i hate myself i haaaaaate myself because its the easy route

all i see behind eyelids is mistakes accentuated and repeated, patterned, mirrored in the empty shoe box of hatred where my brain once was.

conscious thought has been replaced by self critical analytics of every step

im insecure im insecure i dont have words that mean anything for sure

i do what im told , i do what im told

because i dont know what to say to do on my own im nothing

nothing

nothing

i feel nothing

i feel nothing when the ones round me tell me they love me because i truly do not believe

i cannot perceive why anyone would love me

stepping back

maybe them saying they love me and me believing is the leap of faith i should take

not a lot in my head makes sense

i should stop listening

and start seeing

jesus christ write me a letter tell me im getting better

poetry is rhyming, its timing

its finding a way to get your line in

interject your opinion, welcome blissful oblivion

with bitten down nails digging in to skin

ripping and tugging, sick of juggling tasks, putting on masks

associating my facts with self crowned kings singing about diamond rings

but they dont last forever, its just a clever marketing scheme for capital-ism

lights multiplied and separated by prisms, masochism clouding vision

blurred perception of rejection

standing, standing, standing mortified

demanding acceptance but its denied so i cry

deep sighs, dwindling size of my want to be alive

craving suicide, raving to subsidize thoughts into art pieces

jesus kapheeshus i do not believe this

this miss, is not bliss having my head in the sand

im drowning and no one is here to hold my hand, and my sweat glands overacting

crashing, no one to help but myself

my health is my own worry, my own spicy curry surely leaving me in tears

my fears bubbling, something doesnt make sense

scars left in repentance, this jail sentence is too long,

ive drawn from hatred, from fated destiny getting the best of me

i have people making guesses for me to try to help

but i yelp and pelt myself with insults, suicidal ideation, the creation at finger tips

painted lips, sinking ships in the distance

leading a resistance with no comprehension of this dimension

stacking up their pensions by giving me detention

success prevention, obsess to leave a black hole where my head once was

in attempt to get rid of the dread, to stop myself from making a dumb fuss

but all i crave is to let the wild RUMPUS start with

letting my heart beat while trotting my feet sweetly against calm concrete

hide under white bed sheets while thoughts fleet by flocks of sheep

i keep my problems dropping like quarters into tip cups

shit sucks when red-headed cuties shoot me with questioning stares cause im up to no good.

not doing the things that i think that i should.

i stare down at elephant skin thumbs

wrinkles frame in fingernails that scrape away at the dirt caked in too deep

staring blankly into mistakes

each hair illuminated by white light

each crease a pale reminder of lost and finders

old 3 holed binders with painted anticrosses

nothing to gain

assume that my brain is already lost at sea

costing me fourty three doll hairs from chucky’s bride

time bides as she binds my mind, and my rhymes lose chime, strange times fade to black

surrounded by brown needlepines, chamber shifts back click clack

like broken 6 inch stilletto heels, slipping in fields filled with banana peels

reality trys to reel me back in, but sin begins to brim from within

recycle bins filled with rims of boxes of pills that send chills to my spine

i am not fine

i cant turn my mental state around on a dime

like white coated chemicals are supposed to cut off my tentacles

i still pentacles ingraved into my bust left from suction cups, firing pain erupts 

blood stains on my carpet

off to the morgue, my body is carted

back where i started

entombed, confused

body contused

fuses are cut short

muses left voiceless, sheerly because there is nothin to retort

court jesters pestered until the anger festered 

stranger danger, chestor bested her

cheeto crumbs left on the thumbs of a bum

how glum

this isnt what i’d like it to be

it isnt what i’d like to decree

but please if you listen to me

you’ll see while every time i rhyme it may not be organized perfectly,

but its still evident that in this labor of love, the devil works with me.

instilling ideas of negativity purposely

absurdity, lurking in the murky depths

life and death

pick or choose, make a guess

maybe dressed in your Sunday best youll be able to address

the actual feelings, the factual mess that you’ve just reeled yourself into

maybe then youll comprehend all that I’ve been through

the places ive been to

the empty spaces of my mind I’ve lent you

begging on my knees pretty please america, let me wear my hair down

because ive paced each and every step of this town and all ive found is that happiness doesnt run rampant round these parts

and when my heart starts to pick up slack for the fact that beaded drops of sweat start to drip down my back

i sit back and try to relax but my favorite black cat passes by my window

contemplating

i could call it an african-american woman’s vagina but that would be a sexual innuendo.

kitty cat jokes, good humor in blunt tokes.

but my folks think its okay to revoke a chance of a new hope

but my brain keeps sending blue notes of depression

laced with a burning urge of expression

a balance of input output

left foot right foot

walking down streets passed by thoughtlessly daily driving driving

thriving faster, past the ugly pastors and countless master

uh baters

ill pass by haters, the school administrators

fucking give me a break

i might as well be using these textbooks for rolling papers.