I'm proud of you

"For the monster is not in my face, but in my soul. I once thought that if I was like other men, I would be happy and loved. The malignance has grown, you see, from the outside in, and this shattered visage merely reflects the abomination that is my heart. Oh, my creator, why... Why did you not make me of steel and stone? Why did you allow me to feel?"


I cant find a new muse
until i set the old ones
free
but i fear
they will set me back
and all the effort
ive put into caring about myself
will dissipate
just as the rain does
parched from a late
texas july

Just as
the monstrosity
i once indulged in
and almost recognized
as my true self did
after my hands
stopped wanting to speak
with ink
and my mouth couldnt stop
confessing all of its ugliness
in fear i might fail
all the precipice
of this tenuous rage
with an internal weakness
left stillborn
and without
closure

Are you drinking tonight?
Are you proud of me?

For so long
i was merely a violated pair of hands
and cigarette stains
coalescing across parchment
and it felt beautiful
in its honesty

Personifying
a warped portraiture of desolation
and longing
deep in the raging storms
born
from the abysm
imprinted in my soul

I feel as if
im merely echoing the gilded
passion starved artist
im dying
to reconnect with
as i continue moving forward
and finally lay to rest
these tortured catacombs
that eclipsed my heart
with devastating
hopelessness

I want to forgive her
for retreating
into denial and bitter isolation
when i couldnt bare
to face all of the truth
in my turpitude
or regret

Guilt

The utter fucking enormity
manifested
from my pain
and how it craved for the world
to mirror my suffering

This is my letter of goodbye
to the angry muses
i didnt want
that took my poetry away

My apology to courtney

The freedom
my thoughts need
and a soft kiss
for a boy
i couldnt save from suicide