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ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Message to Readers

song recommendation:
Snobbism by Neru
(i urge you to listen to it and look at the translated lyrics please)

this was honestly just a huge jab at myself and proud because THIS IS MY BABY *lion king scene* but like yeah. this whole thing is just me making fun of myself. the first line is literally me spitting on one of the pieces i've written and i'm pretty sure there's an 'effigy of a lover' jab further down the line.

do i learn from my mistakes or merely remember them? i'm a hypocrite which is why i write this piece and love it. i eat hypocrisy for breakfast lunch and dinner. i am living an oxymoron.

to the moose: YES THIS ONE *points violently

a hypocrite's guide to self-deprecation

June 16, 2020



'hurtling towards the deadline' yeah right, peace in the end? are you happy with this kind of self-destructive content? 
think that if you lived a worse life you'd at least have something to work towards but 
you feed on a faux 'i know how you feel's, thrown at you by orchestrated audience members, what's the difference between your paper tears and a reality show laugh track? 
feel bad for the man who holds onto hope these days, tug his arm towards nihilism, a whole new way of life and tell him to let go of a happy ending. 
drink venom from wine glasses, hmm delicious. push away the image of 'joy' and declare it a mere 
magic trick. 
hypocritical individuals use their coronary arteries as pencils, because its funny to watch the skin of your tongues peel red, suck dry the jolly rancher of apathetic sympathy and write a great tragedy about the color of your mouth. 
unflattering, psychological innards, smear your broken heart across the newspaper and roll around in shit so you can plant flowers in your pustules and call them beautiful. 
sadness is admirable, attract hornets to your lack of honey and lick the deposited sweetness off your forehead. 

use pain as a mask, dry words and purple passages of a lover you never had. 
blue saturation, rainy funerals of a purported 'happiness', melodramatic catharsis only tears the wound wider. 
indulge in your nougat desolation, eighty-percent air and twenty-percent scraping the last bits of injustice out of your stomach to feed to the gaping mouths of society. 
oh the calamity, of a piece you rend yourself from your chest, the best meat. simply, 
dangle these rotting pieces of compassion above this nest of crying baby birds, and they'll swallow plastic. 

how happiness has died, whitened emotion stiffened and preserved in a casket, you push away this scientifically emotional phenomenon and rewrite it with a rigor mortis of your own: obstinacy and eternal sorrow, willful misery. 
hope seems to be a farce by the loan shark known as God, denounce it all and proclaim heroism. 
lie to your mirror, don't you know the biggest parts you pick out of others are ones you're too scared to pick out of yourself? 
you keep the words 'beauty is pain' in your throat like a half swallowed pill so you can regurgitate it when someone questions your way of life, 
hypocritical, accept individual stagnation in your open arms but push for quick change in this 'society' you so often indulge in tall tales. we're all the same here, yeah, so say again you're all alone so someone can tell you that you aren't.  

stagnation is a mindset, not a slump. parasitic creature, watch as you prattle on about the woe of living. 
use other people to satisfy your gluttony, it's okay if you never learn to walk, right? 
pick out the right words, 'broken', 'heart' and a 'brokenhearted'. reap your rewards, sapphire tears the size of your 'lack' of an ego.  
fear the future, fear the past but fail to acknowledge the infestation of fear itself into your psyche.
the only way to be understood is to feel worse than you already do. of course, satisfy yourself with this brand of comfort you buy from the drugstore, cheap knockoff, burns down your esophagus good and keeps you full for the next hour. 
we're content with chewing on our own tongues, fleshy bubble gum of unspoken words, building ourselves popsicle stick bridges so we can fall from them later, good gratification from this miserable crowd, you're alive, no doubt we're happy with sadness haha, eternally subsisting on ersatz empathy from a jar—you cry again until you've wrought the last bit from them. 

so tell me, 
are you satisfied with this kind of life? 


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  • joella

    i read your pieces like this and all i think is "oh my god. you're literally my soul sister."
    the aaron burr in wait for it, the hypocritical oxymoron, all of it...these are actual thought fragments that continually float around my head, occasionally brought to life in crappy poetry that i don't actually post, but then i come find your writing and i'm just like holy. heck. it feels like you're looking inside of me.
    i LIVE for your writing.

    5 months ago
  • inanutshell

    something about 'what's the difference between your paper tears and a reality show laugh track?' and 'hope seems to be a farce by the loan shark known as God' makes me amazed how you can so aptly write out the things I've been thinking!!! love this piece bc i'm basically the same way lol the pov this was written in only makes this better

    5 months ago
  • sunny.v

    i see the “moose: this one!” AND I GO NUTS ok i’ll read and review when i have the intellectual capability beyond a peanut aka when i’ve been fed and put to bed

    5 months ago
  • elliem

    Wow. Dark and gorgeous all at the same time. I am stunned again by your sheer talent! :)

    5 months ago