repetition
pretty/pretentious
terribly/full
stuffed
to the point
that you feel
like throwing
up
and it
makes me
want to do
just that.
i can't stand
the whole cool factor
what dictates enlightment
comps and cookie cutter
mentalities(i know i'm really
no better living vicariously
in other people's cool)
and slick keroac
james dean hepcat
suave and bongo beat cadence
coincidence
conscience.i sit quietly.
trying not to give myself away///
biting my fat
lower lip re
straining and straining
to see through your eyes
breathe through your pores
dance to your rythm (i've
never had any of my own)
and
it is all farce
meyouandthethreebears
and porridge sucks
anyhow/i can't really be honest
can't really be objective/
can't really be constructively critical
because i'm green with a sick little envy
and i loathe the girl that i am at times
and i can't help but sucker punch and replay
the foot in the mouth time and the overbearing
overgrown/overpowering
larger than life
me.that wants to just be quiet.
you.meek and tiny and liked
and women should
be seen.scene after.scene.take twenty three
and it's always the same.
cheesy after school special/aesop's fable
shaking my head once-again at me
and beat
nix the whole stupid
thing.the royalty of cool.it just don't mean a thing.
hollywood babylon here in south jersey.
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