Mr. Inferiority Complex

He follows me.
He sits on my shoulders
whispering not-so-pleasantries in my ear.

He tells me what to eat
what to think
what to feel
what to do.

He tells me I am
a worthless
waste of space.

He tells me
Nobody will ever
love me.

Every time I make an assumption
an assumption that maybe
just maybe
he is wrong

he just shouts, sitting on me bed
filing his nails
a cruel smirk painted on his face
"Not true."

But maybe you can help me
Kick him out.
Dump his freeloading ass
tell him to leave me the fuck alone

I would be cautiously optimistic, But he won't let me feel that way.

You

sigh
moan
midday nap on the roof
skin on skin
no boundaries
breathing in unison
hair tickling face
light strum
pure lightness
red fringes
nervous?
hand on bare stomach
lips on bare neck
what is this?


Just a far too personal rambling

From someone who still doesn't know how to feel.

Here We Go.

Write a sentence.

*backspacebackspacebackspacebackspace*

No. thats stupid.

Write another sentence.

maybe...

no.

*backspacebackspacebackspacebackspace*

Long and mournful sigh.

I'll just sit here.

face illuminated by a computer screen.

Listening to the same song on repeat.

thinking of you.

Maybe my fat little greasy fingers

smashing repeatedly on this gross little keyboard

might produce something

that might make someone

somewhere

smile. 

Preferably you.

Because you deserve it.

I will be back. 

To make something much better. 

Because this kind of sucks. 

you'll see.

An Open Rebuttal.

You obviously didn't know what I meant.
Whatever happens in here,
I will push out of the way for you.

They aren't doing me any favours.
They sit around
without paying rent
feeding on my brain
getting out their frustration at my heart.

You don't.

Stop thinking that you come second.
because you deserve more than second.
you deserve a golden metal.

Maybe I deserve
to be the one
to give it to you.

Propagated feelings

Being satisfied with not getting what I want
Is not enough
Anymore.

So now I just lie to myself.
for the good of me
and you.

I tell myself I don't care anymore.
but that is such a fucking lie.

I can't restrain my feelings
with anything but concrete.
and a wild horse
engulfed in concrete
is not a pretty site.

Not sure what to feel anymore
so I just decide.
even when I do know what to feel
I don't know what I make of it.

Juliet MKI, you are not helping.
you bring out my real side.
and you act like you enjoy it.

But you told me your rule
and if you change your mind,
I will follow it to the grave.

I don't even know what this bullshit is anymore.

What am I?

I am just wearing a mask.

and underneath that, another.

I am wearing enough masks to not leave room for anything else.

I am an onion.

I am a zombie.

I am a turd with gold finish, pretending to be worth something.

I am everyone

I am no one.

If it were a few degrees warmer it would be raining.

Placebo

A placebo doesn't work If you know it's a placebo.
Though if you told me today
what you told me before,
I would still believe you.

Because unlike the starch and sugar
"Mood Enhancers"
In the purple bottle
on the windowsill,

I just keep hoping
that one day
you won't give me a placebo.