1-22-17
If only emotion wasn't real,
Because regret makes me sick,
And the doctor says it's all fine,
But my god,
Don't you smell the formaldehyde
Or is it just me?
It's locked,
Cells and cells of this anger,
Chambered and chained-
This is all I am.
I hate this fucking town
And these fucking people
And this fucking school
And the fucking dickheads that harass me
And I hate the fucking churches
And where the hell has god been
Because this basement is covered in plans.
I'm a system of godly hatred,
They never could see it through.
As I smile, i hope it looks like glass
Because I'm ready to cave
Yet my sanity is in this idea.
Year's time and I'll make history.
I look across the cement,
The light's too bright,
But the windows of the garage
Are all spray painted black.
Sometimes I think I'd rather just see black,
A dark, violent abyss of nothing-
No empathy,
Just dark.
Napalm and pipe,
I've been lying,
Because I'm manifesting my life into bombings
Like a glimmer of hope looks like the glint of light off blood,
And doesn't Saturday feel real fucking familiar?
Doc, it's not okay.
Sawed off death presents,
I laugh,
Like "Brooks, you can go home. I like you now"
Those doors open,
And I'm giddy,
Like a kid on Christmas
But my mother never thought
Santa was the devil
With blood pouring from his eyes
And all I've wanted is mass murder
For a year.
I can get away with anything,
She doesn't notice.
Fashionably late,
Their bodies all fall,
Vodka and reb-
Up in lights.
Eleven down,
And we top it off.
The barrel at my temple,
Yours looks at the roof of your mouth,
It's all been building up,
We've gone crazy and I might be in love with it all.
The cops all showed up awhile back,
Fucking kids are all so scared.
Cassie was shaking and praying,
When the table didn't do enough for her.
Stupid Christians,
God's looking away today.
When I turn to you,
We're smiling,
"On the count of three"
You nod.
Three.
There's noise in the hallway,
Somebody's crying.
Two.
A foot shuffles on the carpet,
The clouds move a little,
Light comes in.
One.
Triggers,
We're done for, Dylan,
Nice fucking work.
Heaven's gates never said a word,
But it fell to its knees for us.
Hell's fire never roared approval,
Just steamed and seared.
As for us,
All I see is black;
We did it.
- (m.m)
Two words;
Eric Harris.
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
