you're everything you want to be
accomplished, gracious and great company
it makes perfect sense, you're never hated
but then, appearances are overrated
you speak the language everyone knows
take over when the conversation slows
another self made luminary or
maybe just the ##### toothfairy
i'd send that brain you ration
to feed the smallest starving nation
but diet aftertaste is rude
and i can't digest a single word

In darkness, twisting wraiths,
broken wrists pose no restraints,
has it been so long,
the words have gone?
the wraiths twist back,
to hear bones snap
and broken bones grind,
the emptiness expands
as darkness brands
my skin, fading painlessly away,
yet the words never stay...
they once came so easily,
flowing so seductively, now
not even force holds them at bay,
they flee my mind with ease,
I can no longer constrain
the ethereal wisps that once played,
inside my mind, inside my time,
like a broken clockwork misaligned,
the wheels turn ponderously,
yet revolutions pass ineffectually,
has it been so long,
that my soul has gone?
Can darkness bring it back again?
Would misery replenish me?
or have I simply given in?
relenquished
retired
expired
expelled my own sinister spirit,
forsaken my malevolent muse,
broken free of maniacal melancholy,
and found happiness...?

"Self Esteem"

PG for one naughty word at the end. I have written so little of late. Sigh. 
Don't ask why.
It's just that I
Can't accept a compliment.
I'm not saying that
You're a liar, yet
I just cannot accept.
Yes, I mind
Your words so kind
Take them away, please.
Understand that I hate
This skin you celebrate,
And I want you to hate it too.
Don't give me all the compliments in the world.
Not a one of them will stick.
Because underneath the beauty
I can still smell the shite.

"this is what they gave me"

Maybe a little on the (ya right) literal side for me. ;) *HUGS* Thanks for reading.
"this is what they gave me"

a broken hand
and a bruised heart
some torn skin
and me torn apart
a hatred of mouths
inability to lie
disgust for myself
unable to cry
nightmares in the dark
illness in a head
misery in secret
and innocence dead

(this is what they gave me)

a secret shame unto myself
shift the blame unto myself
call the names unto myself
inflict the pains unto myself
unable to maintain--myself
unable to regain--myself

[this is what i'm left with]

a body that shakes when there should be tears
a mind that draws constant the same old fears
a memory, a reminder that never disappears

(this is what they gave me)

a reason to hate myself further, a fast track to a slow decay, a reason to be ashamed, a rationalization of this pain, a reason to make myself sick with the thought of names and faces and places and words so wicked so vile so unashamed in their corruption, a hatred of mouths tongues teeth saliva lips mouths... & am i off the edge of sanity again?

[this is what i live with]

(and this is what they gave me.)

you might never believe the power in knowing
you can hurt you worse than anyone else
you can be more disgusting
you can be more terrifying
you can be more crude and you can be more painful
than anyone else
until that is all you have to cling to
.. when all the safety in the world
is only what you've created in your own head
only what you've created with your own hands
then you can know the true hatred
the true hatred of self
.. only in that blindness can you understand that sight.

{this is what i'm left with

and this is what they gave me.}

tell the tale of one Red Owl,
The silliest by far,
For each part would meet the other,
Inebriated at the bar!

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Hope you had your fun
And got lots of laughs
Cause I'm gone
And I'm never coming back

So laugh it up
One more time
Before I hit the road
And sink six feet

This skin of mine
Will finally be shed
Cast away the old
Cast away the dead

And you say it's okay
No, that's all right
I know that, but
You don't care anyway

Here by the roadside
I'll sit and wait
For my chariot to come
And take me home

Black on black
With the extended back
It's my ride home
And Mr. Skull head's driving

So, as our paths
Part ways one last time
I'll look at you
"Wanna go for a ride?"

Necrophilia

Translucent anguish
rock-hard futility
He clings

He clings
to
the faded
photo-memory
of a woman
that never was

ideal is
the she
he wanted
to be
and thought
she was

stolen smiles
voyeur glimpses
salted residue
on kodak paper
he clings

can't let go
of the memory shade
can't face
the world when
all the world's
a mirror
and all
you see
your own
quiet truth.

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