finally being me...

my hopes seem dead again

cant i grow up and shed into new skin

no?... fuck it then

take the left top limb and both shins

and let the rest stay attached to a pen

oh geez im the poetic kristopher reeves

paralyzed from the waste down

but after swallowing a few pills to induce literary skills

i feel my true strength is held captive inside my crown

voices inside are scrambling around

bonding to fuck to recreate the molecule of an evil man

but here i stand

that fucking evil man

neglected, segregated from holy water

soul packaged and labeled... priority shipped to where its hotter

leaving just a lifeless tatted body of raw flesh

next on the meat rack to being slaughtered

yet still proud to be just me

cuz just like the previous line before it ends its "just me"

if your eyes cant visualize what my pupils see

listenly closely.. im like the end of the word comb a silent B

not able to voice my scream loud enough to be heard

its like my voice is wired and translated through a dog whistle

tears soak my face cuz any conversation with any human is not heard

so im up here monologuing

trying to convince myself not to unload this single shot pistol

so instead i use a pen to conversate with a sheet of loose-leaf

i scribble my pain and anger so hard it gets tossed on the shelf

my passion for poetry animates a ballad

provides it with silva so it spits itself

to much bullshit to hold so it tends to shit itself

leaving dingle berries buried in my pudicals

i scream at these walls that cage me in

its like viewing a patient argueing with himself in his little cubical

twirling the perpeller on the top of my red and yellow hat

a numb taste on my tongue so i spit when i talk

im the backbone of a broke and twisted pathway of life

so it only feels good that my disc skip to a different beat when i walk

i hate to talk because my breathe must smell like ive swallowed exhaust feums

my lips part and faces start making squenching

and people make quick accusations

well you mindless pricks can make like a tripod

and hold my balls steady

while i jerk off recording this public viewing of masterbastion

in other words i want you to see that i enjoy playing with myself

whether youre turned on or not by this virgin to the mile high club

you could guess i dont give a flying fuck

even if i finger-banged the flight attendant til my wrist cramped up

this middle finger would prolly still stay fucking stuck

and like this lonely standing finger i happen to let linger

i stand alone so i might as well just be myself...