My insecurities could eat me alive.
My mind is like a whacked beehive.
It’s busy and out of whack with everything around me.
I have horrid stories I could tell you about my past.
I pray that this doesn’t last.
But every day my issues seem far from running out of gas.
They are going the distance.
Let’s talk about mental resistance.
Too fat, too skinny, too tall;
My self-esteem consistently trips into a pitfall.
Paranoia, paranoia everyone is out to get me;
I feel like I am a target the size of a giant sequoia tree.

Since I was nine…

I started desiring suicide back when I was nine,

and it is still so at twenty-nine.

That is twenty years that can be used as an excuse to pick up a nine,

Millimeter pistol. The normal kids use me as example to outshine.

I cut my arm inching closer to the vein; That’s my foul line.

“You just enjoy cutting yourself…remember its down not across the line.”

Your comprehension of me is so far off it hit a coastline.

Maybe an entity destined for my soul to be beaten and metaphorically dipped in brine.



Screw what you thought

Or how valiantly you fought

Against me.

Vengeance will be mine and delivered at interest with a fee

In comparison to what you took from me.

It goes without saying that, if you were all love and fairness

Then I wouldn’t have been beaten to the nearness

Of emotional death, promoting me to slice my own flesh

And down a bottle of pills.


It’s true; I never been an image that you adored.

To you, I was just like a broken mirror.

Such divergence left you utterly floored.

You casted me away as a holy terror

A human cancer

to society meant to be scorned by the lord.

And to bring out the hidden killer

In you; so as to chop my ego into pieces for you to devourer

Everyone screws up

Everyone screws up

Mistakes are the squeals of a pup

Trying to imitate its father’s bark

So don’t disown your failure as a simple lark

And remember you build a wall

Brick by brick; a failure and a fall

are nothing but potential to perfect usage of the utensils for perfection.

Additionally, don’t listen to naysayers spewing their judgments

The authenticity of their words is as fickle as mints

Simply masking the smell of their hypocrisy

Going with the flow

In the mind, the river can flow up or down

So don’t call something red when its brown

Or don’t try to plug something round

Into a rectangular slot.

Meaning if you are sad be sad and accept your lot.

It’s as easy and breezy

As being cool on an autumn day or toting a valise.

The hard part is resisting the current

Or being determined

To see the color brown instead of red

or plugging a brick into a pinhole.

Sweet soul

I want to impress her.

Such a sweet soul akin to a fine liqueur.

It’s cosmic when we are near,

always at a small distance like orbiting planets caught up in a platonic

connection, and it would be moronic,

to think otherwise.

She has more than a few orbit her when she is way,

the goddess of her own solar system. There sunrise,

and mainstay.

Something like teenage arrogance

Let me be the first to tell you that you are looking at a superstar.
I’m like the lettuce and dressing in a salad bar.
My competition is sneeze guards cause getting expelled on is the entire of there repertoire.
my super talent is how I effortlessly not give a fuck about the opinions of others.
My talent is gallant the way I’m like snuffers
For multiple unsolicited opinions.
I am a phenomenal jerk too
You have no clue.
Ill fuck around and throw a can of mace at someone’s face
Then drive around my neighborhood with the bass
Booming propelling the sounds of literal booming explosions
Just a reminder of the bombs over Baghdad, a modem day Trojan
Covering the advent of business men boasting
Broken promises of explosive gains.

Let me be the second to tell you that you looking at a superstar
I’ll fuck around and buy a car
To tote around my ego while I ride the MTA
Just to save a buck
And maybe be in luck
And have someone try to mean mug me
I’ll riddle them with a 9mm and then hire a lawyer to get them to pay my medical fee
For having a sprained itchy trigger finger.
Let’s not linger
on the subject like the way I jetted from the bus
then tried to hop in the car tooting my ego but couldn’t fit. That plan was a bust.
Got locked up.
Went in and offered free blow jobs. Basically my mouth was the grace cup
after I chewed a man’s face off.

Something like teenage anguish

You don’t understand my feelings
Me and life have horrible dealings
I am reeling in empty fish nets and bleeding
Out. I’m an extraterrestrial being
Stuck under the atmospheric conditions
that favor the savage and brute.
Basically I’m just a shoddy chest to loot.

One mistake after the last.
Another mistake after the next.
I’m lower than the lowest caste.
I just don’t feel like anything feels right
I am running down a tunnel with no light.

I’m not okay
The worse event of my life was my first birthday
Everyone flicks insults at me like I’m an ashtray
I’m a rebel without applause
You attack me with a righteous cause
In mind, but I am a just an outlier,
An easy target to aim at and fire

I hurt…

I hurt so bad inside

Each conscious second is a chide.

I think of suicide.

Sometimes it kills the pain,

But only temporary.

Furthermore, my savagery

Just eventually multiplies the pain

Like the infection of bacteria inside a slain

Body. I don’t belong here

Life is too much to bear.

I’m like a hare

Running in circles after its own tail.

That tail is my happiness or my bail

Out this world but I’ll never catch it.