This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
The last redeeming gimmick left that I hide inside this empty sleeve.
It disturbs my image in the mirror.
Cackling as I fight against this struggle,
Desperate to puncture this jawbreaking muzzle,
The one I have chained to my face. This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
An unruly leak which seeks to drip.
My dreams looking bleak as I start to slip,
Somehow, it sifts and stifles this inner ache of mine.
This ache has left a scar; a tattoo from those crisp, repugnant words at me, you sputtered.
Like rustic and polluted scorn-like fumes, at me, you uttered.
In this vintage crevice, it soaks the corners of my fertile trance-like state.
This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
Reinvented its colors, its height, and weight.
Thus changing the shapes and sizes.
Patiently, I wait while my nausea rises.
It takes the form of tarnished crystal shambles,
The ones I scramble in finding all the pieces,
All the while, it dangles over my disguise, rewriting my entire thesis.
These sunken woes slumbering beneath my swollen toes,
All stuck on repeat, like they have nowhere else to go.
Backwards, I bend and try as I might to Hopefully mend this raspy voice of mine,
The one left dry and barren.
The urge in your greed and your need for control,
Snaps and snares,
I wait for it to crumble while it levitates over me.
Barbarically, it heeds this animated psyche of mine.
This paralyzed, immobile smile,
The one you gifted to me as my sole reminder,
Unable to bend, twist, curve, or fold.
It mocks and screams to an ill-fitting squeeze,
Tightening up till your act gets old.
For your words are your weapons till your mouth gets sold.
It milks the last scrap of energy,
The energy that weighs upon these cracked and tired feet of mine.
This paralyzed, immobile smile,
I rent for your luscious lull.
Advantage, I take from this paralyzed smile,
To obstruct your jarring, bumpy road.
Acting out inside your counterfeit portrait,
Invading the ring of the fractured and torn,
Endlessly rattling under the floor.
This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
Conceals the wreckage that can't be seen.
The result that stains the abuse you call therapy,
And if you don't like me, know this.
I am the product of my environment.
I feel every twinge, every spark, every cringe worthy second spent inside my mind.
At some point, you won't wake at all.
That's why I need for you to see,
That in this paralyzed immobile universe of mine,
Is the jaded sour beast you have sewn inside of me.
For this smile is all that's left of me.
The last redeeming gimmick left that I hide inside this empty sleeve.
It disturbs my image in the mirror.
Cackling as I fight against this struggle,
Desperate to puncture this jawbreaking muzzle,
The one I have chained to my face. This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
An unruly leak which seeks to drip.
My dreams looking bleak as I start to slip,
Somehow, it sifts and stifles this inner ache of mine.
This ache has left a scar; a tattoo from those crisp, repugnant words at me, you sputtered.
Like rustic and polluted scorn-like fumes, at me, you uttered.
In this vintage crevice, it soaks the corners of my fertile trance-like state.
This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
Reinvented its colors, its height, and weight.
Thus changing the shapes and sizes.
Patiently, I wait while my nausea rises.
It takes the form of tarnished crystal shambles,
The ones I scramble in finding all the pieces,
All the while, it dangles over my disguise, rewriting my entire thesis.
These sunken woes slumbering beneath my swollen toes,
All stuck on repeat, like they have nowhere else to go.
Backwards, I bend and try as I might to Hopefully mend this raspy voice of mine,
The one left dry and barren.
The urge in your greed and your need for control,
Snaps and snares,
I wait for it to crumble while it levitates over me.
Barbarically, it heeds this animated psyche of mine.
This paralyzed, immobile smile,
The one you gifted to me as my sole reminder,
Unable to bend, twist, curve, or fold.
It mocks and screams to an ill-fitting squeeze,
Tightening up till your act gets old.
For your words are your weapons till your mouth gets sold.
It milks the last scrap of energy,
The energy that weighs upon these cracked and tired feet of mine.
This paralyzed, immobile smile,
I rent for your luscious lull.
Advantage, I take from this paralyzed smile,
To obstruct your jarring, bumpy road.
Acting out inside your counterfeit portrait,
Invading the ring of the fractured and torn,
Endlessly rattling under the floor.
This paralyzed, immobile smile of mine,
Conceals the wreckage that can't be seen.
The result that stains the abuse you call therapy,
And if you don't like me, know this.
I am the product of my environment.
I feel every twinge, every spark, every cringe worthy second spent inside my mind.
At some point, you won't wake at all.
That's why I need for you to see,
That in this paralyzed immobile universe of mine,
Is the jaded sour beast you have sewn inside of me.
For this smile is all that's left of me.
Year:
2018
Forums:
Reviews
No reviews yet.