Guilty of Existence

 

 

Nobody wanted me from the start.

 

Discarded, bombarded and disconnected; Disenfranchised without force,
Societal divorce,
Inveterate neglect

Because I don’t have the effect

Like others do
In their suits and dresses,

Crestfallen meshes of guilt –

Guilty of existence,

Decadence is resistance,

Not my fault, is it?
I was born,
Left forlorn
Only to await a stranger’s cock

To inflict a conflict within,

Intrinsic sin,

Sleazy menace with a Glock,
My body like a condom,
Fill it with cum
(Dead sperm destined for the depths of toilets) And then dispose of it.

I have a marriage to sickness and junk,

Remnants of dirt and spunk
Under my fingernails,
Holes in my stockings,

Cigarette ash and desperate males

Is my world without fail.
I could change, yeah, I could

But society has already given me a role,
I’m that face to warn children of disharmony, Illicit adultery, dirty sex and sodomy.
I’ve got loveless scars
From hideous men with empty souls
Who enter my cunt for a price,
Play with my heart
And then tear it apart,
I’m just a hole to fill, kick and slice.
The sunrise for me isn’t majestic,
It’s laughter, a mockery,
A stupid, fucking disaster;
Another tomb of a day to replay such misery.

The cacophony of slurs
From jilted men
That treats my sex like a pig pen,
Injuries to the face often occurs.
I’m a Van Gogh painting;
Patched in hollow, pallid blues,
Scarred azure hues
In chaotic strokes of ejaculation
From a palette of a dead tomorrow –
No panties, cold vagina
In night breath,
Hearses of deviated, insatiate specimens
That only climax to hitting and fucking
Beyond the moral compass;
My fuck is a pariah,
The hit is a messiah,
This flesh is waste,
A machination to maintain population control...

I wipe the semen from my face and smile at your plans for the final solution.

Nothing fucks me over.
I am the fuck that makes you over,
Trust me, I didn’t misspell,

Lover, my end of the world disciple,

In the cunt of eye; holocaust denial,

Just wanton dope fervency,

Bloodshed on mattress

Like snow at the scene of murder

On a mass scale.
Sex talk of genocide,
Apply make-up,

Smudged by cum and sweat,
Laugh at the existence of the Holy Grail

And consume the rolled up notes
And generous lines of cocaine –

Lipstick-menstrual-frenzy,
Champagne bottle sodomy,
God on TV talking sex changes,

Systematic deaths under bare light bulb;

Infanticides before the bloodied faces
Of masturbating fundamentalists
In suits made out of the pages of Genesis...

 

I wake from the slumber of a meth downer,

Remnants of moral decay surround me.
A skinny, pale and scarred male
Lay next to me;

His snore like the sound of an injured crow

Perched on my near-future grave.
Bruises on thighs,
Bestial breath of cock and cunt residue

Resides within my morgue mouth.
I snort, cough up phlegm, dried up blood from my ass Materialises in dark red crumbs.

 

No photos of loved ones in my bag,
Just ephemeral junk;
Drug dealer phone numbers, gossip mag,

Lipstick, extra pair of knickers, pills

A 20 bag, lighter, cigs, condoms
And pepper spray –
You never know when you need it,
So many become victims of thrill kills.

I shouldn’t stay.

I don’t stay anywhere.
I am a nowhere.
Dismembered, forgotten and left to rot.

I’ve been chosen to balance y’all out.
To depict who functions and who doesn’t.

Fuck it.
I use a baby wipe to clean my cunt
And then throw it at the lad’s head.
I’m leaving; I’ll persist to be the cyst

That y’all interpret me to be
And that’s scar tissue
Of a participant gone fetid
In a paradigm that created
Me;

 

Thick lips, black eyes,
Use to abuse, cum fingers,
Finger marked labia, spit-ridden clothes,
A target for malignance, a human void of nothing,

A poster child of victim for those who wish

They weren’t me.

The only sympathy I ever got

Was from a teddy bear,
Cheap and nasty, missing an eye,

I had it when I was five,

It witnessed my dad fucking me,
Making it out to be a game,
Normalising such repulsive acts so that
I’d grow up and conform to such degeneracy

(In a way, I have)

But that teddy bear,

Fluffy was its name
Had the tendency to look at me
Without apathy, it was always there to accept me Though all of those years of my drunken dad

Molesting the very anatomy
of my innocence.

Now, defiled and guilty of existence;

I breathe and continue to relish in
The absurdity of my own annihilation,

I am my own death sentence

And I want to fuck my own executioner.

Society may as well pay for my cheap funeral.