Through Solitude

The unbearable intensity of this solitude. Thinking about a gun
but never consider obtaining one. A taste for sharp steel indulgence
to puncture a hole in what's mundane, to bleed it dry. Grown restless
as chronic masturbation finally feels too excessive, chaffing isn't pretty.
     Too numb to feel the punch line punch me in the eye, the fist might as well
flew over my head like subtle appreciations of my ridiculous pick up lines
spoken words flashing like cheap diamond rings, they are just as good.
     Oh how these dark pupils brighten at the glare of an open window
presenting a blue sky, like promising a pubescent boy the ability
to perpetuate every cheap dirty motel room moment into an immortal state
when you were that big dick, a cartoon gold shine as you erect before
a girl's curiosity, after all, it was just something to try.
     Knowing that some roads are cold dead ends, colder than a shoulder
more interested in a different way. A dramatized role of a character in the pain
of being alone, yet you somehow auditioned and got the part. Wasting private tears
which will only glimmer perfectly in the right moonlight, but this is not that kind of night.
     Within this solitude, facts are written in bold ink, making it obvious like an attention
whore realizing that no one gives into their narcissism. But really, what am I supposed to do
with this delusional warning trying to warn me about doomsday with a falsified hope in the chance
that maybe the awkward nuclear comet might not impact, leaving me with a noticeable crater
on my face? It might already be too late and I've already moved on.
                                                                                            So goodbye Solitude
with your narcissistic nature where a broken mirror is a good enough reason to take the shards
and stab every bit of flesh which doesn't notice the difference.          Goodbye to all your obsession
over what is me, what makes me a capitalized I and what might expose me to those back stabbing knives
some judged wrongfully.                                         I bid farewell to taped up thoughts pretending to be broken
shattering at the slightest idea of a good posture. Standing straight before a gavel isn't really that intimidating.
     Finally in a solitude where the perfection of idleness is ignorable, in a solitude where perfection is
something worth ignoring, where the flaws actually stand a chance. Realizing the stupidity in immortality
and giving into possibly dying. I cruise down the highway recklessly, convincing everyone that I have nothing
left to lose.