Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
I am best on my belly
I like the way we peel the skin off,
Roasting it in the hells created by
Our own imperfect mind.
Sanity is hideous, the way it slinks in
And makes believers of us all!
Bullsh(!)t, I cut the tendons that keep me
Standing on faith; ravage my Achilles heel
Until I am wallowing in the earth,
Like a ragged maggot hoping for a feast.
I am best on my belly.
All the men think so.
They with their twisted smiles
Darker than any downward spiral.
They with their ill promises, screaming out
"Don't tell! Don't tell!"
As I harbor screeches in my mind for it to stop.
They who cut at me with words sharper
Than a beautiful razor blade,
Spilling my precious blood atop their feet,
Never once stopping to admire the scene.
Stand behind me, push me into darkness,
Lest I should fall there myself.
F--k you, I was your cheap thrill never getting paid.
There were stab wounds and stab wounds and stab wounds,
Each going deeper than the last until
The festering infection reached my heart,
Poisoning my blood and turning me into cancer.
I look to feast upon the fetid souls who carved
Their initials in my thoughts while I screamed,
No... BEGGED to be released.
After all this time, I believe I'm still begging.
I'm better as a beggar than a rat wriggling through the trash;
A wh((o))re upon heaps of garbage, waiting for the stench to subside.
In the end, I cower to disease, because I'm good on my knees.
I miss the way it felt;
When I was cutting for blind reasons.
And now, there are too many reasons
To make just one slit.
5-29-12
Roasting it in the hells created by
Our own imperfect mind.
Sanity is hideous, the way it slinks in
And makes believers of us all!
Bullsh(!)t, I cut the tendons that keep me
Standing on faith; ravage my Achilles heel
Until I am wallowing in the earth,
Like a ragged maggot hoping for a feast.
I am best on my belly.
All the men think so.
They with their twisted smiles
Darker than any downward spiral.
They with their ill promises, screaming out
"Don't tell! Don't tell!"
As I harbor screeches in my mind for it to stop.
They who cut at me with words sharper
Than a beautiful razor blade,
Spilling my precious blood atop their feet,
Never once stopping to admire the scene.
Stand behind me, push me into darkness,
Lest I should fall there myself.
F--k you, I was your cheap thrill never getting paid.
There were stab wounds and stab wounds and stab wounds,
Each going deeper than the last until
The festering infection reached my heart,
Poisoning my blood and turning me into cancer.
I look to feast upon the fetid souls who carved
Their initials in my thoughts while I screamed,
No... BEGGED to be released.
After all this time, I believe I'm still begging.
I'm better as a beggar than a rat wriggling through the trash;
A wh((o))re upon heaps of garbage, waiting for the stench to subside.
In the end, I cower to disease, because I'm good on my knees.
I miss the way it felt;
When I was cutting for blind reasons.
And now, there are too many reasons
To make just one slit.
5-29-12
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
I am best on my belly
I am best on my belly
