Rage incensed unfurled by the scent of the Unsaged.
The Wisest fool, I know.
Marked with your own hands
let your vapid swimming champion attempt to have a go
Let you paw my naked flesh
Touch me up and make me think I wanted you for sex.
I don’t give a fuck!
Get out my of my head, black-mouthed dog.
I got my hands sullen – fresh paint can’t hide your taint revolving around my mind.
I write with these hands because I don’t know what else to do if I sit with my thoughts
what else will I find?
Paranoid thoughts, I was doing just fine.
Soul crooners lull me into an artificial lullaby.
desperate to pull the remainder of my smile -on the down line.
Graphic infatuation, little girls grow up. I put my hands in the air.
My new escapism became you
There is no edge about you
indeed your toxicity is your strongest flair.
On the border screaming – furry fury cloaks me.
You took advantage, you sick fucking spatial wasted amoebic basket case.
Slap you, disgrace you.
You took advantage and to hell with you.
I suffer still because I let you have me.
No regrets? fuck that – knowing you live is the cord around my neck.
Choke me, pollute the air -in my world. it’s not fair.
No, life ain’t fair.
Break. it. down.
Trace my heart – find a pulse – wearing my heart for all to show -has led to this current plumous demise.
Despise – I’m spitting mad.
You think you got me had?
Leave my mind – cybersex or sext with the one with the most milkshakes accumulating in her breasts.
I back away -Every.Single. Day.
My greatest doubt is you.
My biggest mistake was believing you -believing in you.
I’m bored. I’m tired. I feel like you’ve drawn out the last pint of blood from my veins.
Silence your kind.
Judge not those who seem a reflection of myself.
Your kind is everything that drags me into the knockers pit – I know about that mine.
I know the rules now.
Not worth it. Wasted.
Not worth recycling.
If I see you again count on a different primitive play out.
You ain’t no clever clogs – your seduction techniques consist of stirring drunken lust.
You can’t even get your playmate up – he so broke – he to lame to even cough up and say I’m bust
See my belly button? I ain’t your mommy – there ain’t no umbilical cord,
Snap out of this maced crowdy place.
Am I losing it because of a hillbilly with a familiar face?
Contravene – isophane
Get out of my mind.
Tickets for you – you need to pay hundreds in fines.
Here’s the unpolitical correct version – may your mind be haunted and possessed by the very wrong deeds you have done with your own venomous spew.
I hate you. I hate me. I hate that I let you get to me.
Immigrant? I’d rather be that than insignificant. who are you?
Who are you?
No metamorphosis fly buttering around.
Comparisons to what I have tossed away to one side.
If I end up in a grave with a tag on my toe.
Please, family, don’t own me. Call me Jane doe.
Such is the embarrassment for the one I almost gave up breathing – you so shallow – you so low,
then I realize you want to have that effect – crazy bastard. Your mind ain’t correct.
How can I erase your dirty fingernails and unwashed face from my skin?
How could I let you touch me – lusted after you? You dear, are not my sin.
Lost and a wandering always flock to the same ravine.
I’m not gonna drown in here -with you the last thought on my mind
We all a bit crazy – you crazier than your previous generation of malignant space heads.
Fuck you. Fuck this – potions brewing. I’m on my way to Haiti to instil a dose of voodoo – you hoodoo – foo do – mush brain processed tin canned – factory-made – reset the defaults – you haven’t got a clue.
You think you some Who?
Have I told you lately I have some news for you?
Posted on Mar 20, 2020, in POETIC WORKS, STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WORKS and tagged Emotions, Love, MY WORLD, rant, Relationships, self expression, stream of consciousness poetry, STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WORKS. Bookmark the permalink. 39 Comments.