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Literature
.
they laugh and
ask him how
he stays so calm
when the world is
burning down
but they never noticed
how grey his smile is;
how grey his eyes are;
how he has lived (and died)
a million lifetimes
in the blink of
an eye -
no-one ever
stops to notice
that his trust is
a bridge crumbled
to dust, that his skin is
tearing apart at
the seams like
worn out clothes
somebody threw on the
floor when they were
done wearing him out.
they ask him how
he stays so calm
when the world is
burning down
and he laughs.
(because he's spent so long living in fire
that he has learned to dance in the flames)
Literature
cynical: arsenical
splinter-thorn boy,
it will all start to
d i s i n t e g r a t e
beneath you
you are
the least beautiful way to unravel -
all maggot-rot, no
split-thread, no
ribbon-torn boy
an architect of
self-abuse;
a god of
ru(i)n(n)ing
[away] &
no:
there is nothing holy about you
Literature
what if i told you
that the only thing i learned
from eating dinner at the table
was your opinions never matter
and it's better to be silent
than sorry, my Mother used to
box her ears in every time
i accidentally broke a biblical law
and what
if i confessed
that my sister is the one
my mother loves the best, even
when i came home with
certificates and commemorations
that never meant anything
in a Christian household
'cause i kissed another girl
in year 10 and the teacher
wrote an angry letter home
(and the girl eventually left
me alone anyway)
and what if i admitted
that the only thing i ever
learned in maths was how
to plot the angle of my
death and the r
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honestly I blame my ethics class for this. we go over too many philosophers, and now we're studying Neitzsche; confusing as heck, lemme say. the main thing I picked up is "God is dead" and I went with it.
Mature
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bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-buu-llshit!