look at yourself and die. describe what you see. a madwoman crying at her own lack of words. tearing at her brain because she's a faceless flower in a sea of roses. your eyes could bleed red and you'd still keep on crying. it's pathetic. it makes me wanna weep for you. you're no artist, you're no visionary, you're no maverick. you're just a girl. a girl who thought she had something more. a girl who thought she was special. a girl who is nothing without words. a girl who thought she could weave stories easily by eating, and eating, and eating different pages.

a girl who could destroy herself.

you thought you had it all. words that read easy like honey liquor. letters of shining reveries, and a speech like no other. that was until you saw people who wrote like gods. scriptures, upon scriptures of heaven-spoken detail, enchanting imagery that you breathless, writing as precious like angels descending to the earthly floor. you were no god. you weren't even a king. just a mortal who liked to dress up as one. they say perfection doesn't exist but that's a fucking lie and she knows it. she wants to believe she can get better. she wants to believe she just like them. someone who could capture your attention within a language. she's not. she's nothing but a fraud.

don't worry. this is not a suicide. no one suffocates under a puppet master's noose, or with a sheet around their neck cutting off circulation wheezing of fleeting breath. no one swallows pills, no colorful capsules of disillusion till the world turns dark. this is more of a mental suicide. the voice that eats away at your neurons and kills all your brain cells. words that kill you because you speak-it-kind-of-death. the kind of suicide that works slow you don't realize until it's in your veins, working their way to your muscles until seeps into your brain. the kind of suicide that's kind of pitiful because it drives you insane, until you can block it out, lock out, or cry it out in pain. words that hold no merit, words that aren't beautiful as she imagined. words that are inevitably just vomit and scum. and all she's about is that mental murder.

but i praise her, she was always good at destroying herself. do you see that way she nitpicks at her skin? i like the way she does that. i like the way her her madness begins and never ends. an continuous cycle of ongoing torture. i like the way she breaks and crumbles-like rubble to dust- between my fingers. i love the way i can reduce her to nothing more than a comparison- a hate that she feeds on- its amazing what a mind can do until self-control is nothing but a myth.

but every once in a while she'd pick herself back up. calm herself. regain a conscious of her own and smile.

and like a wake up call i'd come back.

YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. THESE WORDS WON'T SUFFICE. WAKE UP CHILD AND WRITE SOMETHING WORLDS WOULD BOW TO IN THE SAKE AND GRACE OF YOUR NAME. FUCK. WHY ARE YOU SO INDECISIVE? THESE ARE NOT GOOD! I COULD BURN BLANK PAGES AND COME UP WITH A BETTER STORY THAN YOU. THIS IS NOT GOOD AT ALL. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL THEM WITH THIS NONSENSE OF PERIWINKLE PURPLE PROSE? ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU WANT THIS FINAL LINE? IT'S TOO SIMPLISTIC. I NEED SOMETHING MORE BOLDER AND BRIGHTER LIKE A SKY BURNING AT THE BRINK OF DAWN.

YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

STAB A PENCIL IN YOUR BRAIN IF YOU NEED TOO. CHOKE ON PAPER IF YOU MUST. STARE AT THE SCREEN SO MUCH SO THAT YOU BLEED. SLASH YOUR WRISTS ON YOUR PEN. LET THE LEAD LEAK INTO YOUR SYSTEM, LET THE INK FUSE WITH YOUR BLOOD, LET THE PAGE SLIT YOUR THROAT, LET YOUR EYES MELT INSIDE OF YOUR ROTTEN SOCKETS. I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BETTER LIKE THEM. SO WRITE. SCOOP UP THE SCARS FROM YOUR SKULL AND GIVE ME SOMETHING BETTER. MURDER YOURSELF IF YOU HAVE TOO. PLUNGE A KNIFE IN YOUR CHEST AND RIP OUT YOUR BEATING HEART, RIP YOUR INTESTINES INTO BLOODY ROSY RIBBONS, TAKE YOUR ENTRAILS AND SMEAR IT ON THE WALLS, . AND CREATE SOMETHING NO ONE HAS SEEN BEFORE. DO IT BEFORE WHAT THEY SAY IS TRUE. DO IT BEFORE YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

DO IT BECAUSE YOUR LIFE IS NOTHING WITHOUT WORDS.

PUT YOUR LIFE ONTO PAPER. FEEL YOUR ESSENCE MINGLE WITH INK. BUT YOUR PAGE IS BLANK. LIKE THAT GAP OF VALIDATION YOUR ALWAYS SEEKING. IT'LL NEVER BE ENOUGH FOR YOU WILL IT? JUST GIVE UP. WHY STAY? WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHY ARE YOU EVEN DOING THIS? I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING YOU TYPE. JUST BLANKNESS. YOU'RE A VOID. A VOICE WITHOUT LANGUAGE. A TONGUE WITH NO TEETH. A HUMAN WITH NO FUTURE. COMEBACK WHEN YOUR PERFECT. COME BACK WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THIS.

THERE'S NO TALENT, NO PASSION BEHIND THIS. YOUR BETTER OFF SPEAKING GIBBERISH TO A MAN THAT'S LOST HIS MIND.

YOU'RE NO POET. YOU'RE NO POET. I CAN'T COMPREHEND YOUR WORDS. IT'S TOO FUCKING UGLY. I HATE THIS. I HATE YOU. I'M EATING AWAY AT YOU TILL I'M DOWN TO YOUR BONES. YOU TASTE DISGUSTING. EVERY INCH OF YOU IS WORTHLESS. STOP THIS. WHATEVER THIS IS. FUCK. WHY AREN'T YOU GOOD? EVERY VOWEL YOU UTTER. EVERY LETTER YOU USE. EVERY STRUCTURE IS BROKEN.

AND IF YOU CAN'T CREATE THEN DESTROY YOURSELF AFTER ALL DESTRUCTION IS A FORM OF CREATION.

it's sickening really. none of this makes any sense. pointless blathering. an empty shell posing as a person. i want you to be better. i truly do. so murder yourself raw till the floor beneath you eats you whole. the failure that you've become was a fate you've already followed. no rhymes. no words. i'm in your empty head. taste this mental suicide. it looks like you've overdosed.

claw at your skin. eat away at your brain. i'll always be here with you forever. it's doesn't go away. it never truly does. and your pitiful. this has no ending.

just destroy yourself.

~art~