DON’T LISTEN

DON’T LISTEN

Don’t listen to grumbles

Ignore acid pangs

Rather exacerbate with coffee

Bout as bitter as your acerbic humor

Run those hands down

As you would caress and smooth a carpet

Or a lover.

Feel the jagged surfaces like

Stone roads, bumpy, piercing

Firm to the touch

Unlike you now

Weak and worn out

Feeble, meek constitution

A lot like your lowly soul!

Stare into the looking glass

And slowly feel abhorrence stacking up, piling itself

Til it fills you, you full of overwhelming perceptions

That act like shadows

Masking the clear

All their taunts reverberate

Their insults masked as loving advice

Emanating from within, whispers

Frothing at your mouth in the naked starlight moment of self loathing

Pull your hair, the strands in your hands, clench them

This’ll be the first of the many parts of you

That you’ll be ripping off

That you’ll be wasting

That you’ll be starving

Take apart every piece of buxom being

Die bone thin

The first of many parts of you

That you’ll rip

-achalcyon

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