Orange peels

The first time you see me
I shine
I'm stunning
I'm interesting
You look and look and look
You can't read my thoughts
You can't tell if I'm drunk or not
The third time you see me
I linger
I'm half there
I'm not wearing makeup
I'm not looking down or up
I'm not speaking loud enough
Soon I just shutup.
The last time you see me
I melt you
I'm so ugly
I'm so unhappy
You look and look and look
You can't believe its still me
You can't tell if I was always this ugly
I am
I have been
I will be
I've come to believe
I'm just a very beautiful kind of ugly.

Let's write a poem

it's been a while.
Hello boys and girls,
bitches, snitches, thugs,
druggies, fuglies, and bonafied childs.
Welcome to the poem about sunday morning highnesses,
fucking up your sinuses,
wild like Andre Nikatina on the highway,
where old ladies get the fuck out of my way.
How are you today?
Tell me how you've been?
My boyfriend is who knows where with who knows who
and he'll be back who knows when
and i just got high with his friend,
and me and his friend want to pretend
that it never happened
because he would bitch.
There, your entertainment for the night
I told you I used to be a black raper in my other life.
Yo yo, just kidding I'm a cowboy,
this sounds like some shit that needs a beat otherwise it wouldn't leave the shelves that didn't even fucking rhyme, boy.
Whoops, now it did
and I'll do it again.
Before I give in and pass out,
I'm gonna touch myself
because my boyfriend fucks me while watching tv
and it makes me feel really ugly
so then we just stop.

Today is the day.

To day to do

what I said

I was gonna do

Yesterday.

To day to do

the thing that

buries me

five hundred feet,

the thing

that peels the

onion layer of

the Earth back,

the thing that..

that thing that

my body is rejecting

because the sex is electrifying.

To day is Theday

that I drive a car

that I ride down a road

that I battle my addiction to raggy, old clothes

that I eat an entire meal

that I smoke all the cigarettes before I choke

that I uncurl my toes

that I forget who I am

to day is Theday I'm a noman.

what a great day is today.

space music, i call it

very mathematical yet timeless

time traveling, actually

yes, listening to music is a form of time traveling.

W H O T H E F U C K A R E Y O U

W H A T T H E F U C K I S T H I S

H O W D O Y OU F U C K I N G E X P E C T M E T O B E L I E VE T H A T T H I S F U C K I N G S H I T I S S E R I O U S

W H O T H E F U C K A M I

A N D W H Y

A N D W H EN

A N D W H Y C A N T I F U C K I N G R E M E M B E R H O W T O S P E A K S P A N I S H

I H A T E D B E I N G L I T T L E

I H A T E B E I N G Y O U N G

I L L H A T E B E I N G O L D

I H A T E N E E D I N G A B O D Y T O F U C K

I H A T E N E E D I N G D R I N K S T O G E T D R U N K

B U T I H A T E L I V I N G T H E M O S T

B E C A U S E N O M A T T E R W H E R E Y O U G O

Y O U L L N E V E R E S C A P E T H E I L L U S I O N

Y O U A R E N T A N Y O N E

I M N O B O D Y T O O

A N D O N C E Y O U R E G O N E I T S L I K E Y O U W E R E N E V E R T H E R E

Y O U N E V E R W E R E.