these tears unending faggot trash faggot trash fucking incompetent piece of i forgot myself in all the din of dinner calls and subway cars and post-its fallen off the wall and now all men look at me, and they see my hollow core, and they see i want nothing but to please
and now that all reject me i am to fill myself?
with what? and with how?
where does one procure a heart strong as steel, state of the art? where does one find the strength to fill arms and course the veins? how do I know what's right when all i've ever done is follow and been betrayed?
so, you want me? you want me to know myself?
how will you endure my wrath? bottled of seven bitter years? how will we make amends when i say i do not want you? all men who want me filled are fools who shake their wanton heads and swallow slogans whole --
i am a bitter man, to my core, unwanted.
if i am to be wanted, i must be moulded, moved, shaped, into a form that meets the eye
this vicious self-decay, this rancid abolition, this widening gyre --
too many have betrayed me, too many --
yet i see a guiding light this beauty undenied, shall i follow a gleaming path when it pains the eye?
the truest challenge, yet unmet, is to speak true, to love yourself, and in that love