patheticexorcist

Why in

the fuck did I

ever need to

know you?

I was perfectly accepting

of a miserable
existence, that I
was not meant
for happiness

Instead I get

fucked in the head cuz

I got to feel it

it knew me

now I can be miserable

in my existence cuz
I know happiness can

exist, it's beautiful

blue skies with

no black clouds

joyous rushes

with no needle

that is, until

it's mercilessly ripped

away from your

(finally) warm hand

leaving lips and eyes

dried to sand

making things so much worse

I should've jus died

or left the state when

I had my chance

instead I'm stuck

regurgitating demons

like some

pathetic exorcism

the power of Christ,

like pretty much everything

else in this depression 

wasteland, is not compelling

the end is nigh-ilism

Cuz I already am

well fucking aware

God is not on my side

sick son of a bitch
ignorance truly is

bliss

Syringe is the New Black

You'd almost be

shocked at how surprisingly

little it takes to

destroy your existence

a couple decades worth

of cc's, literal

multiple of 10

a lil h2o with

occasional combustion

reaching ignition point

Achieving this requires

very little start-up capital,

mere pocket change in

the grander scheme

it's not the buy in but

the interest that gets you

accustomed to a certain

lifestyle and racking up debt

til you're a customer to not working erstwhile and

wrecking up death

It's cool,

believe me it's cool

and then it's not

all fads must fade

the culture shifts,

passed by and passe

til you're the only

one left on the dancefloor,

the record skipping the same refrain

the others moved on

or got lost

the party cleared out

like in the late 20s

so why are you still

looking for a speakeasy

in all the same places?

Chairman of the bored

you know you're sick

of it

All

but habits are scary to stop

fear of missing out

full of missed opportunities

maybe it's time to cash out

reinvest in other futures

take stock of your

net worth

or you can tread the same trends

til it brings you only ends

you wouldn't necessarily choose

independent or puppet

be what you may

but at least glance at

your portfolio before

you go throw it away

half Full of Empty

Painting our protagonist

as a tragic figure

We are so well versed

in representing life

from our glass

half full of empty

Pictures worth thousands

of words

made of PoV shots

and filtered to fuck

self portraiture

Living a lie only

works if you believe

it yourself

"What a minute, who

am I here?"

juggling so many faces

attaching the wrong mask

It's all so overwhelming

all this politeness

for politeness sake

I can't do it well

my acting chops

dulled, got soft

and I lost the desire

to pretend I'm anything

less than miserable

misanthropic, zombified

with apathy, narcissist

self loathing waste

of time and space

I walk with stooped shoulders

carrying the weight

of my death wish

Sharpen my bones

lately I've been thinking

way too much and

especially, terribly

so much about you

Why is it that you

can't jus turn into 

a literal spectre

instead of only

ghosting me?

am I forever forsaken

destined to in all ways

be sickly haunted?

possessed even

I don't wanna know

I don't choose to

care but control is

not mine to have

I walk across hot coals

you walk on water

with the most natural grace

I stumble, stagger, and

burn for you in my

pursuit pointless

my orchard will prove fruitless

I shall starve in slow lay

a painful pathetic dying way

scratches to ashes, 

rust to dusk 

shriveled to husk

without a single last bite

of the forbidden apple

that could have stopped

and spared my decay

I know it's wat 

was most knee dead

I can feel it sharp

in my bones

SADdams famILY

I can't wait to hear you

Scream

my name in cacophony

as my razor sharpened

carves your love

in symphony

sympathy is dead to me

and frankly we're all done

we had fun but

now must put our

toys away

Play time is none

more time for game

has come

place decapitated roses

beside a doll of

similar problem

Is there an afterlife?

shocking

festering heavens hold

no appeal to me

in the place of slow

cemetery songs

strolling like our 1st date

fitting to now've

reached the last

forever burnt in memory

as it adorns our resting

place into my arm

the final solution

I require to transform

Internal eternal humanoid shape

letting out a low growl

at sculptured angels

trackmark my territory

piss on your grave

Howling with laughter

and so thrilled that

I can be a monster

since my soul of all mankind

is as dead and gone

as the one I cherished

who helped me transform

for the worst

Oh Caramia descended

our fortune in flames

I thought I would

remember to ask politely

if I could see

you near Tuesday

but turns out

Wednesday is wat

I always truly wanted

In The End

away is where all beauty

will fade to, grisly

and only pretty corpses

can be immortalised

with any tangible recollect

Oily Skins (family recipe)

To begin

spread like jam

residue of extraction

and varnish a brown

tint that can run

its full spectrum

a color out of space

and running out of

useful time

slather the grease

in spots across paper

it can be a Pollack

it can be like those

candy dots with which

you ate half the paper

either way the end results

Remove 2 snipes from

earlier this afternoon

regular size fine

inch and twist filter

til the tobacco forms a pile

Get ready to add

the vegetable by

preparing it julienne

ahead of time

mix green pile with brown one

a card edge is useful

or the EZ Wider pack

placed combo pile into

our smeared papel

Rest is straight forward

standard procedure

And now you

can bake jus a lil nicer

in the comfort of your

very own home

Final tip, my secret one:

Set your timer to 420°

so you get more than

minute to enjoy

bone appetit

long division with a remainder

Do you ever

question wat becomes

of our energy upon autopsy?

the pure horror show 
of it all
cold body slit open

organs removed individually

weighed then put back

now jus useless tissue
without the soul
body is merely a cadaver
headed for spoilage
when the light dims
then not fades away

When they introduce

that first scapel slit upon

our refrigerated skin,

do you imagine the

overhead lightings of

the morgue flicker

or blink or tingle jus

a speck of a second

as our ions are

set free from mortal coil?

the static charges on

strange electronic pulsation

made of human radiation

barely a blip noted

on the meter, jus

like our lives were

and will be