Breaking skin
It's so thin
Not a grin
Just a sin

Where is the lullaby
I am no longer high
I just want to deny
It still hurts, goodbye...

In the midst of occupation there is pointlessness; society is here to keep us happy, but I believe it inadvertently destroys and constrains individuality. Yet it encourages it to flourish.

Through the fury of nostalgia and the bloom of purposefully subconscious self-righteousness, I will forget the mistakes I've made you make.

The definition of art is irrelevant because we will always argue about what it is or is not, and when the definition changes, nothing else will.

My sophist sweetheart stints aortas with antipathy.
The hand that feeds is partisan and persnickety.

That which is merely possible need not be within reach to be such. And that which is within reach need not seem possible.

Curious fingers, grope me true, i'll submit if you say no just right..

A girl in pain is desirous, vehemently attractive and tenderly noxious.

Truth is real but reality is intangible fabric, so love has an inability to be untrue.

Love is ignorance.

The point of poetry is to contradict; either itself or the world. Within disagreement lies the truth, you need only reach out with your mind and take it.