Shut Up
Forfeit the game
Dead eyes stare into a soul whose mirrored reflection stinks of urine.
Eyes tired to design hatred and running out of color necessary to change the world in which they exist..
Eyes fed up with the heart and yearning of the brain...
Heart fed up with the eyes and yearning of intimacy.....
But right now its intimacy is disrupted by a very bittersweet heart that wants to...to cuddle...
I watch myself in the dirty mirror, mirror I purposely avoid to clean because dirt suits my internal state at this stage in my downfall.
I watch damp cheeks and grimace in remembrance of how hot the liquid my cheeks are damp with felt when it made contact with a rebellious soul.
I watch how it drips down the bloody and swelling skin on the yellow-soaked shirt...I watch an Uri soaked in piss...
With a speed that strengthens my defeat, I unbutton the yellow shirt, peel the yellow fabric from the yellow skin and flinch at the sound that resembles the parting of skin layer from another so terribly much. My digits tremble as they release the infested material from their grasp to head to the faucet that pours with chlorine-packed sewer water, tremors that intensify as they connect with the water, form a cup and then retract to rub the horrible liquid on my piss-coated skin.
And the motion is repeated.
And my brain screams with every cup of masked sewer water my digits bring atop my skin.
And my skin screams every time my digits rub that water into its cells, to merge it with them, rather than merge the salty piss with the shit juice and remove it all from its surface.
And it rubs ruthlessly, reaching a point where the skin raptures and cries red.
My fist punches through the mirror in a desperate attempt to erase the yellow image that meets my eyes, but it's reflected in the shards that fall to break in the sink.
And my knuckles cry red.
And my soul cries red.
Fuck it!
Eyes tired to design hatred and running out of color necessary to change the world in which they exist..
Eyes fed up with the heart and yearning of the brain...
Heart fed up with the eyes and yearning of intimacy.....
But right now its intimacy is disrupted by a very bittersweet heart that wants to...to cuddle...
I watch myself in the dirty mirror, mirror I purposely avoid to clean because dirt suits my internal state at this stage in my downfall.
I watch damp cheeks and grimace in remembrance of how hot the liquid my cheeks are damp with felt when it made contact with a rebellious soul.
I watch how it drips down the bloody and swelling skin on the yellow-soaked shirt...I watch an Uri soaked in piss...
With a speed that strengthens my defeat, I unbutton the yellow shirt, peel the yellow fabric from the yellow skin and flinch at the sound that resembles the parting of skin layer from another so terribly much. My digits tremble as they release the infested material from their grasp to head to the faucet that pours with chlorine-packed sewer water, tremors that intensify as they connect with the water, form a cup and then retract to rub the horrible liquid on my piss-coated skin.
And the motion is repeated.
And my brain screams with every cup of masked sewer water my digits bring atop my skin.
And my skin screams every time my digits rub that water into its cells, to merge it with them, rather than merge the salty piss with the shit juice and remove it all from its surface.
And it rubs ruthlessly, reaching a point where the skin raptures and cries red.
My fist punches through the mirror in a desperate attempt to erase the yellow image that meets my eyes, but it's reflected in the shards that fall to break in the sink.
And my knuckles cry red.
And my soul cries red.
Fuck it!