Pity Party

Every time I pass that window, memories flood my mind like a broken septic tank leaking on to a just-landscaped lawn. It's ruined precious hours of hard work and spotlessness and reeks of putrid shit and all things atrocious. I can even taste the disgusting grime that is your memory. That deep-seated scent of filth within me that countless scrubbing of a hopeless loofah cannot diminish. With the blurred vision of a diagnosed hypochondriac, I follow the tiny speckles of your rancid bacteria with its various forms of shape whose tentacles dance and sway beautifully as they travel from organ to organ infecting it with irreversible defilement. I shudder as they pierce and then enter me, contaminating this mind, this body, and this soul. It's a deliciously grueling feeling; they settle comfortably within me - these parasitical jokes-of-a-monster which must belong since I sent them cordial invitations to join this little party of mine. A transformational, fatal celebration of my catastrophic abduction into that dirty, dirty, dirty life of yours. This party of my physiological anatomy is to commemorate this transgression. Sitting on a filthy bathroom floor half-naked; our legs interlock and you're insides savagely rip apart mine. You see this is no ordinary type of party, it's the type of party where things will be destroyed that can never be fixed and hearts will be broken that can never be mended.

Invitations are limited but expect yours in the mail.

Do you remember...

How you used to draw sketches of the female and male anatomies just out of curiosity?

And hide them deep inside your sock drawer for fear of the monstrosity..

You'd create these vivid stories in the back of a sinful notebook

Where written in script, your fantasies covered every note you took.

Doodles of naked bodies intertwined and the forbidden 'four-letter word'

See these inappropriate words thrilled you more than anything you've ever heard.

This was an early association to the dark and menacing world

Where not everything succumbed to the patterned life that troubled this young girl.

In a world where chaos is the prescription

For life's unappealing restrictions;

And in drawing characters engaged in sex;

Our inner demons is what they reflect.

Narcissism

I close my eyes and listen to you;

Oh, treacherous voice inside my head.

You whisper things, unfaithful; untrue

I snap my fingers and smile instead.




I tell you that everything I lack

Erased once my wings flapped.

But you pierce the wings right to my back,

To let me know that I am trapped.



Its hard to defeat you, that I know,

But I'll try my best every day.

You'll never fade my luminous glow -

No matter what you say.



I'll overcome your vulgar lips

Which spit thorns into my beating muscle.

I'll endure the storms that shake my ships

And win this fight without the scuffle.