The things in this world I most despise
are the things no one can help becoming.
Little white lies to save face or feeling
force of habit forcing a smile.
Then pointing fingers, spreading the blame
(not enough butter in the world for that toast)
thinner than Jell-O liquified against a wall at Mach 2.
The things in this world I cannot stand
are the things I find myself doing
more and more often, sickening myself
and smiling as I do it. Is anything wrong?
I smile and nod and hate myself
then try to blame her for doing the same.
The world expects me to be all that I hate.
I oblige, perhaps because now I've got a reason
to be a cynical asshole.
So I rant to strangers
vent in secret, an anon is me
because I'm afraid what the real people think
even though I say I don't care.
Sticks and stones will break my bones
but words can cause psychological scars.
I'm fucked, you're fucked, we're fucked
it's all fucked up
and I don't even know what I'm talking about.
Blaze up, fuck everything, and nap
I can fill this emptiness with
smoke, or sex, or sleep
Crank that volume, flying fingers
TV, Stereo, Xbox, all at once
it's not loud enough
inside. Then I look at them
the degenerates, the scum of the earth
I'm looking in a mirror.