Spitting in your own mouth

im a dick

What do you see in the mirror? I see an angry confused malnourished individual. Who's trying to find their place in the world. Despite knowing exactly where he belongs. Leaving the mirror. My gaze falls onto my non dominant hand staring deep into the canyons of creases from my 19 years of experiencing the world through these tools. Turning it over, I recall a cheery fat sheriff who greeted me with a joke saying "Where's Dwight, Mose?" before rolling every corner of hand on a clear device illuminated with a quiet green light. Displaying the entirety of my randomly assigned genetic ID onto a little LED screen above the whirring machine. From the meater side of my hand to the pinky and the more helpful neighbor, the thumb. All forever encapsulated dried and preserved in the system, as a face with a name, 2 hand prints, and a list of accidents. How can anyone sustain something they're simply not? I feel so alone in my skin, my brain is attempting to rationalize my actions. So I abuse and consume to feed the hair of the dog I pet every morning till I taste bloody fingers in the back of my bile filled throat hunkered over a toilet. Nothing is ever as real as it seems.

You seem to enjoy pieces that should only be valued in silence, so enjoy this. Enjoy the lies, the depravities, the superficial nature that is a full frontal. As if a registered sex offender is untying his trench coat and flashing you. So you'll stare at his micro penis even though you want to turn away. What keeps you staring is the singular question, " Why would anyone do this?"

"You're my favorite asshole. , Unknown 2018-2019 Friend "

I project the self rejection I feel towards myself onto others intentionally or unintentionally. Simply because it's easier to reject yourself, ideas, humor, art, opinions, observations, and emotional wellbeing rather than having someone else tell you what you fear to believe. If you're going to hate yourself do it the right way or not at all. Daddy taught me that one . If someone does say something nice, I quickly scurry building a fort of rebuttals, absurd jokes to protect the paranoia surrounding my beating heart . Or on the other hand, I am so much better than anyone I know. I obviously know everything, "Gods dead.", " Nothing matters and because nothing matters everything matters." Don't think about it". Devils advocate also falls into a whole other category when I'm "feeling myself". I essentially become on of those people who unironically listens to Rico Nasty, Cardi B, and Nicki Minaj before getting into a car for her "free weed". Only to leave roughly 2 minutes later with my mouth requiring a blacklight to fully clean cause the plug is a rare breed known as the hypebeast wigga with a record time of 2 minutes. Who truly believes doing/selling drugs is a fucking personality trait.

"Cause a white kid complaining is so original and valid"

Now lets not forget about my repetitively dull relentless creativity that gave birth to my third eye lifestyle with dolphins assisting in numbing the contractions. After me birthing myself it occured to me to take my little baby to a hospital . My brain on a CAT scan looked like schizophrenic with a shotgun went full Jackson Pollock in my skull. After that glorious demonstration of abstract performance art, I hired a child with down syndrome who was obsessed with spiderman to restring my neurons. Have to be a tortured artist to be a successful artist.

Stop romanticizing tragedy.

Stop saying stupid things.

Stop being so nice.

I obviously know what's best for myself.