Inner Wreckage

2017.11.01

You think you know me?

You pathetic little bottom feeders,

On your high f*****g horses,

Shoveling your own s**t into your mouths

Calling it luxury chocolate.

 

You think you know me?

Crafting your own conspiracy theories

About anyone and everyone outside your miniscule and vacuous social circle,

Living in a self-delusional bubble of bullshit,

Elevating your own lives with self-praise and pretentiousness,

Thinking it makes you superior.

 

You think you know me?

With your judgmental stares and whispered insults,

Too much the frightened invertebrate to wield the knives to my face,

Slathering labels on anyone who doesn’t fit your mold,

Condescension in your praise;

Envy in your back-alley insults.

What the f**k happened to you as children that you simply cannot deal with anyone around you contrasting your ideals, behaving differently than you, or existing on a level where you instinctively feel the need to reach up and pull them down into your quagmire of s**t?

 

You think you know me?

You are consistently inundated,

            Suffocating,

            Marinating in your own personal cesspool

Of ignorance and jealousy.

Everything about you is an infectious disease desperate for a cure.

Time has such immense value,

Yet you see no better use for it that to spend it making me the center of your universe.

It’s ok.

Thank you for making me your “personal Jesus”,

But I can see through all your childishness and obsessive behavior,

I see how much you want to know me,

How much you want to be me,

And it is pitiful that you have so utterly deluded yourselves,

And that you have felt the need to attack me, belittle me, and debase me,

Just to attempt to negate your glaring inferiority.

You think you know me?

You don’t. And that drives you mad, doesn’t it?

You will always be the freaks in the corner with the tinfoil wraps,

Pulling out teeth for fear of radio signals.

You will always be wholly irrelevant and lackluster,

Voices in that tiny social circle of sheep who kiss each other’s asses,

While walking in diminishing circles,

Going nowhere,

But the bottom.