The Art Of Self Degradation

I am a maggot reflected in diamonds
My flesh slowly eaten by rotted bodies
Products of me, the boy with a closet graveyard
Reeking of ghost skin and suicide sweat
Existence put into question by a winged youth
When I disappear in his sniper sights
Sometimes I wonder If I even have a heart
Maybe the butterflies ate it years ago
And I'm kept alive by the tunnel's dim light
That's burning out for my own sake
So I don't have to see the crawling apocalypse

Lost Touch

I cannot relate to my fellow man anymore
The soil they walk on has more in common with me
(Stagnancy molded by foot prints and afterthoughts)
They're too busy worshiping invisible sociopaths
Too caught up in the heroism of poverty genocide
I prefer the poetry of a crimson-stained wrist
Over the delicacy of a three course meal of pills
It will put this garbage heap deep into the ground
To actually be stepped on instead of just feeling that way

Suicide Notes For Dummies

Hey Fuckers,

You're probably surprised at this gruesome mess before you. Never would have crossed your mind that it would come to this, did it? Now that I got that last bit of sarcasm out of my system, hi! How are you? As you can see, I'm not doing too well. I'm dead! Why did I do it you're asking? Well, that's a funny story (but not really).

You see, I've always felt alone. Even surrounded by close friends. It must be how Justin Bieber feels when he's not around prepubescent twinks. Speaking of him/her, why is it that people like it have so much money when people with actual talent and good qualities clutch pennies like a hypochondriac trying to keep a cold? Seriously, I've spent most of my life being terrified of dying. Which makes this whole situation ironic...maybe. I was never clear on what true irony is.

You're probably getting bored reading this. I was pretty bored writing it. So, here is where I give away my possessions. Or else I would if I had anything worth giving away. Someone might want an Xbox 360 with barely working controllers, an 8 year old PC, and a few pennies. But deciding who would get what would take too much effort and fuck that. So you can all bicker and fight for them. Kind of like what you did when I was alive.

Well I feel as if I've said enough here. That and I can't think of anything else that's remotely interesting to say. It was nice knowing you (okay, I liked earlier when I said that was my last bit of sarcasm). Have a nice life. I hope it eats you alive like it did trying to gnaw through my fat ass.

Fuck you,
Bobby

P.S. Sorry about the messy corpse.
P.P.S. On second thought, no. I'm not.

A Personal Choice

If I were to give myself to the steel
You probably wouldn't notice at all
If you did, it would just be an afterthought
A stuck thorn you use to gain sympathy
Then promptly pull out when satisfied
My depression is like the vine it came from
It grows until it strangles the child watering it
Then hangs his body high where no one can see
Except for the dying angels and vultures

Chainsmoking Alcoholic Sociopath

I feel like a cartoon boy

Lungs filled with rat poison

Enough to drown cognizance

Middle finger sprouted proudly

Aimed directly at the Earth’s orbit

I hope the peasants see it well

As they contort in conflagration

That erupts from my tear ducts

Every time the sun dares to shine

I imagine my face on every one

And what we look like inside

Splattered across the walls