fuckcharlie

isnt it funny how my brain talks in we

and its against me?

spinning, crawling, diving, sprawling

crazed confessions of a convict calling

and what this means to me?

totally unclear

a way to pass by the fear

making rhymes and minglings of words together

convinces me to feel a little better

pukey guts and redlined eyes

are just a horrible disguise

im truly ill, yes thats fact

but beyond that is a hypochondriac.-

a me who sits and stares at life

in a glass box

with glossy eyes,

comprehends it all with standoffish charm.

and doesnt cause nobody no harm.

take those double negatives as truth

and youll understand my musings of youth

time spend so incredibly tired

worrying that at one point of my life id get fired

in a kiln of a gazillion degrees

and nobody would bother to give a damn about me

all this talk has become mindless ramblings and none of it gives any glimpse into this life o'mine

anymore

im just your average fucked up girl next door

according to these lies that i dont intend to ever detwist,

nothing is amiss

"to tell you the honest truth"

Click Complete Anthology for All Poems

Real - 2014-10-17

Gone - 2014-10-17

Song Remains the Same - 2014-10-17

Please Define the Word - 2014-10-15

Soldiers - 2014-10-15

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