smiles to hide the facts

i don't like writing 'happy poetry'; actually, i hate it.positive shit never makes my veins pulsate it never leaves me screaming with intrigue as i write my frustrations to paper and cleanse the suffering of emotion i can never seem to utter, stutter, mutter SPEAK!  unless side kicked with a pen or a keyboard for added "oompf" - whatever that means. positive shit, happy words, a vocabulary of smiles leaves me bewildered, craving a chalk board to scrape my nails against, grinding teeth and papercutting in between fingers of suspect. i loathe happy poetry, it makes me feel sick, shitty, tremendously lost. i don't write poetry to sing the exuberance of my perfectly positive, disneyland of a day i talk shit on paper to balance these two fish rotating in circles, [symbolism] this pisces mind i call home to avoid feeling trapped in a bubble of self doubt, insecurity, depression, sexual fears, heart break & background noise nightmares pointing fun and playing merry-go-round within my 2-5am  pillow talk. i write because it is the only thing i call my own my secrets manipulated, exaggerated & documented.

its all fucking lies anyway, no ones really ever that gruesome or are they. everyday, day to day mundane bullshit.

break me out of this mold we've created.

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