Materialistic Suffering

Sub-par poetry rages for pages and pages, whipping my face in a

Silent rage that never ends, you sting like the scissors on my wrists who

Elude me when I need their blood and tears and sweat and spit and

Molten diamonds encase skeletal remains of what I once held close to my

Mechanical heart, raped in a fit of boredom by the knife that severs each string,

My train of thoughts is a car-wreck, I'm the freak wielding the guns who shoots your

Fantasies in their faces.

 

 

Don't patronise me with your tales of earthly suffering 'cause your goddamn

I-phone broke, I shatter like the screen when you speak of things you do not

Understand.

 

 

Spout your same familiar emo-kid crap and cry and cut yourself when you

 Don't get enough likes on your facebook posts, my head aches from the

Weakling cries of your kind who breed more runts and send them in their masses to

Worship words and terms they

Don't Understand.