You’ve been staring at me for so god damn long.
You’ve seen the scars in my limbs and flesh strapped to my face.
You revel in the fact that I live in a squalid little hole.
You can’t describe the joy you feel when you think that I’m alone.
And maybe the face I hold in my hands is not the way I’d hoped I’d be.
What if I dreamt of pride and glory? What if that’s what you were to me?
Can all your lipless mastication be my lovely Antigone?
Or am I to put my face back on and paralyze bare rhapsody?
You say one day that I won’t be the same.
Well, you’re right. Though, you’re wrong.
The day’s coming sooner than you think.
I’m carving myself a face from what you raped.
This is what you’ve done to me.
You sit and say, that I’ve failed at me.
Well, I’m just redesigning the pieces you tore away.
Maybe these holes reflect parts of you.
In life we don’t all get to choose.
Do you really think I’m going to listen to the sounds
Of music, let it calm my nerves and ground
All the matrimonial desecrations,
Ceremonial lacerations.
Needless begging to be under you.
What the hell do you think I really want to do?
God, I want to tear you down.
Can you feel the undertow
Of disgust for you carried in battered tusks?
You’ll remember my name because it’s all that I’ve got.
Maybe it’s just a number
But it means more than your worthless
Swine heritage, did you really think I’d forget?
Maybe I’m nothing grifted of something
Maybe I don’t want to hear this.
My coursers are prepared to lead the way.
This zombie infestation prepares to breathe.
The only distinction of entrapment remised
Is a glorious purgatorial disguise.
You’ll wear it until your last dying deed.
God, I hope you repeat every word that I screamed.
Then the demons will piss upon your every notion
That life was about you and everyone else’s devotions.
I can’t describe the pain that you’ll share with me this dying day.
It’ll bring you a glorious taste of waste with a permanence carried in rotting case.
Will the antimony of your bones decide whether you were guilty of lifeless nemacide.
It will carry with you this never ending riot.
I hope that you curse me up high on your pyre.
Don’t look at me,
Look at yourself!
Maybe I’m scarred.
Ugly.
Disgusting.
But, I know what I am
And I’m proud of my skin.
Inside I am endless,
Though you think this is it.
Don’t look at me,
Don’t look at me!
Kneel down in the mud
And let yourself in.