you cannot fix a flawed system through misguided intent

they used to send
me emails telling me
there is something
in the vulnerability
that drew them to my
sloppy odes to her
peeling off my flesh
to expose the ugliness
we all hide beneath
the skin deep beauty
then they would confess
in the pain and confusion
to lighting a flame inside
and after a weekend of
reading too much
they decided that they
could not only fix me
but love me the way
my broken mind deserved
all while i idiotically
walk barefoot through
the muddy creek as the
moss slick rocks slice
the bottom of my feet and
a cloud of crimson calls
forth the piranhas to
swarm and leave nothing
except pale bones jutting
in the pink froth as
they consume every piece
before finding the next
ravenous feast of open
wounds bleeding out into
the æther to latch onto

the ghouls circle art
wanting to claim even a
small part as their own
tentatively grabbing at
whatever bit of real
emotion they can find
stomachs distended from
the microplastics in
place of actual feelings
consuming the aroma of
fresh blood in the air
leeches latching tightly
to earnest lamentations
stealing from the seemingly
bottomless font to satiate
the abyss wobbling behind
their cold empty stares
not accepting that these
words are not meant to
be anything more than
frozen images etched in
an intimate snapshot of
a fool in steep decline
shedding the scabs from
self inflicted tortures
in a never ending barrage
of septic wounds in prose
doing nothing more than
distorting ugliness into
a wan reflection of beauty
where the lesions go
all the way to the soul


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