You Wanted To Know What i Was Thinking?

My skin has always been so pliable

and by now

it must be ultimately unbreakable

as many times is the stars in the sky

i have cut it open

and beat hate into my own blood

No. No

Not good enough

The vessel supposed to be my home

is the prison where i die alone

an unconscious decision to view with derision

what i only know how to despise

i wondered if the disease lives in my eyes

so i burned them blind

just to escape the mirrors

and then proceeded

to pour bleach in my brain

send poison through my veins

Lobotomize the pain away

All the world's a stage...

At the end of the scene

riddled with holes

i stand

in defeated finality

dripping, dripping

torn shards of doubt splatter

with the shatters of a soul

that feels so much older

than the constellations sewn into my skin

scars like stars from the needle and thread

that i have to walk around with

for every time i flay myself open again

Why, why, why do i do this?

a rag doll; an object of 'no'

a torn stuffy

a thrown away stuffed animal

pock marks from acid infiltrating his bones

The marrow leaks out and sows

reaped seeds of self-loathing

that grow

and grow

and grow...

This sad, bloody thing

in crudely-stitched skin

stands in a field of bloom

rotting in a meadowed tomb

the outside world adores him 

but the mind inside abhors him

thus the gifted crown of laurel leaves

hits his head and withers

so this creature writes love into the thorns

and ignores the rose...

and so it goes...

and grows and grows

and grows...