in the inner insipidness inherent in indiscriminate self loathing lies the last increment of insidious insubstantiality

watching make up tutorials to try and forgive myself applying a foundation to hide the hurt deep in my empty eyes

if you could see me like i see me you’d never look me in the eyes again as the revulsion flashes through your own

if i could see me like you do i would be able to look myself in the eyes and see more than accumulated scars

but it is in that insipidly indiscriminate self loathing that lies in the heart of the heartache that paints my smile

kiss me long and deep to let me let go of the self imposed prison of inability to see through the mascara masquerade