The Art of Faking It

 
I don't cry,  
because  
 
I can't.  
 
Instead,  
I break things  
Self inflict some wounds  
and bruises  
 
Lash out on the  
canvas  
or paper  
 
Pick a verbal squabble  
 
Run it off or  
sleep it off.  
 
I've tried to want  
intoxication  
(Only because  
it reminds me of you...)  
 
But I'm holding a grudge  
 
Now, that I found out  
that you're blaming  
those beer bottles  
for wanting me.  
 
Guess what?  
I'm blaming  
naivety and gullibility,  
 
for letting myself  
indulge too much  
in your  
sugar coated  
toxic waste flavored  
words and skin.  
 
(It's fuckin' addicting  
you know  
and it's no joke  
quitting it!)  
 
But in the end  
it gets tiring  
and frustrating  
 
riding a slow train  
to destination  
light years away  
 
heading nowhere.  
 
(though there are  
nights, that I still  
dream and crave of  
those  
   
uncertainty...)  
 
It's not worth it  
I know,  
I know.  
 
I can't help  
myself though,  
but care about you.  
 
So I'm letting it go  
and wish you well.  
 
In fact I want to  
make you feel better  
 
and  
fake some  
tears  
 
but I guess,  
it's always easier  
 
to fake an orgasm.