I'll never crawl all the way out of the swamp.
Something in me likes it there.
That was what I always found missing in you-
The monster.
I never saw a beast in you.
I saw just a girl. And just girls can be selfish, just girls can cut like razorblades,
It's true,
But they like to draw the curtains on it,
Polite.
I've known you long enough to be almost certain
You've never looked into the eyes of a demon that lives in your chest with you
And smiled back.
That's not your style,
Better than that

Better.

Down here in the gutter, we don't pretend at betterment.
Humans are ugly.
                                 I've decided that's why I love them.

Down here in the filth where the ***** work happens,
It is half love half hate
And sometimes we say things, do things,
That make your puritan heart flutter with indignation.
Sometimes the suffering is hot like a furnace and
We dawn our porcelain masks so that the likes of you
May feel secure.
But sometimes the grime, the blood...
Sometimes the work is... exhilarating.
Those of us who live down here,
Some of us have seen enough pain that
We've decided to find joy wherever it rears its pretty little head
No matter how ugly the reason.
I always wondered, if you saw in me the part of my soul with red smeared cheeks and hungry eyes
If you would condemn me
And now I think I do know for sure.
Nice people like you, see,
Just people,
Just nice people,
They love to think of themselves as accepting.
Forgiving.
Tolerant.
But tolerance is not only for the rallies and the pedestals
Acceptance is not reserved only for the good.
You're a just, nice girl,
Just a girl,
Just a nice girl,
But if you want justice
You've gotta be blind.
See, the thing about nice people is
They're only nice when the sky is blue.
They're only fair when it's fair to them.
I make no pretenses.
I may not be a saint,
A little rough, a little jagged, a little judgmental,
But at least I know I am.
At least I own it, always.
You just nice people, you always hit a point with me
When I simply... repel you.
Because, see, if you're lying to yourself
I make it hard.
Don't tell me you walk through this grimy world with no prejudices and no bias.
You may be a nice person,
But you're no better than the rest of us
Xenophobic creatures full of suspicion, lashing out in fear.
The only difference between me and you
Is that I choose to face the fact that I am not
Just
And accept the fact that I have better things to do
Than bury myself in walls of words I can't use,
Thoughts I can't think,
People I can't choose to seek out or avoid
For a laundry list of reasons that press down like lead weights-
We are equal: Equally depraved.
The only people I truly have contempt for
Are the ones who deceive themselves
And call the others liars.
I forgave you for a thousand sharp tongued judgments,
A hundred times when I needed you and you chose
You
Over me,
A million little criticisms you slung at me that found purchase like barbs in my skin
And you forgive me
Not one word.
Tell me about justice. Tell me I am the only one who lacks it.
Tell me to be
Better.
This world is not about the just,
And that is why I forgive you even now.
Next time you hear me speak
With pain behind my words of humor,
Let it lie.
Forgive me.
Because that is what
The best people
Do.

I am tragedy,
and i carry it with me wherever I go.
I am lost and alone,
at home and in crowds.
Pin ****** on goose-pimpled skin,
barely visible to the well dressed eye,
and less so to the naked.
I am the hopelessness you thought you'd escaped.
I wither with each day,
growing younger,
full of potential to waste.
Full of the potential desire
to finish this cruel tale,
I know now where it is going,
I get bored easily,
and such a story as this
hardly seems worth my time anymore.

Places to go, things to do,
        scurrying through a winless race,
        The alarm clock, the traffic: my stimulus.
        I know the drill; pay the attendant, park the car.
        I wait at the curb to cross the street,
        not using the crosswalk is my defiance to routine.

        I wait for the red light and turn to find I don't wait alone.
        Another subject seeming to salivate for the promise of a paycheck,
        yet he seems pre-occupied, impatient, rather than lulled by the day-in, day-out.
        "Late for something?", I ask, knowing I'll get no reply.
        Craning his neck past me, he looks to the left, eyes sharp and intense.
        Then looks right, checking for traffic, as if it's something he's been trained to do.

        First foot raises making him look like a pointer,
        Steps into the street- no wait, one more car- then across he goes.
        He trots to the median; I follow, sure he'll not pause there-
        but no, he waits, again checking left and right for obstruction.
        Satisfied with the lack of cars, he crosses the remaining distance to the opposite curb.
        I bask in my fascination, my day disrupted in a most unique way.

        For a stray dog living on the street, there is more purpose in his step than my own.

Everyone could love you
But you wouldn't care
You don't love yourself

They could think you were beautiful
But it doesn't matter
To you, the scars say something else

They could think you were happy
But they'd be wrong
They can't see past your practiced smile

They can't see inside you
Where everything is dark
*And the disease controls your every move

How can her smile be so bright
While her heart is so dark?
How can there be a twinkle in her eyes
While her body is full of marks?

It's the word and the sentences i put
to touch the tenderness that it should,
and blaze it must a fire in the heart
should separate the mind and soul apart

Hence, in that indifference will you see
just what you yourself can be.
For in zero existence you are merely
and merely
just human