If you think you know me
- think again.
If you say you see me
- look again.
If you think you heard me,
were you even listening?
If you say you did,
can you tell me?

What were the words I never uttered yet was fully expressed with my eyes?
What pain did my voice convey when all you saw were laughter and smiles?

Don't let your eyes deceive you
There's more to me than what you see
I do seem okay, don't I?
SUPERFICIALLY.

|celina|

Heavy weighs the death
Of childlike ideals
Their hollow corpses rotted
With severed wrists

The media says “tell no one”
Sleepwalk through reality

I cannot want
I cannot lust
For faces
In a world of masks

I wish I was blind
To leave the superficial behind,
Take a breath from drowning
In the insignificance of my surroundings.

Beauty is the illusion that escapes the surface of me,
I can never find it in the reflection I see.
It has been defined in straight lines
And by the passage of time.

You see that magazine girl?
It makes my head swirl,
Popping off the page
SHE owns the stage.

I once vied for so-called perfection,
Clawing at my face and body
Ripping apart, section by section.

Epiphany struck me to no longer chase it
For it is a mirage that disappears the closer you get.
I peer through transparent skin,
Searching for what lies within.

I desire to find something more,
To learn to shut out the ramblings of a shallow world.

you didn't care to read my poetry
you didn't care to know my favorite song
or know my favorite book

you didn't care to know anything about me at all
except my face
my lips
and my body

all you wanted was physical affection,
no mental connection

that's precisely why I chose to leave

Lies! Money is greed, greed is money,
Credit is given to the wrong types of people.
The stupid ones who were not taught
How to behave with their newfound freedom
And systems of fake income!
Don't spend what you do not have,
But they believed they had everything.
Love. Money. ***. Fame and fortune, the world
Was in their hands!
Until it all crashed down in 1929

“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.

You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!

Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!

You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!

I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!

BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!

You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!

And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.

Blonde hair,
straightened into submission.
Face made up,
hiding the flaws.
'Beautiful'
I wonder what the world
sees,
when they call you beautiful.
Because when I look at you
all I see is your contorted soul,
twisted into a being
built on the pain of others.
Under that makeup,
under that skin,
under that superficial idea,
you have no idea what beauty is.

Sometimes I'm left wondering -
Did you enslave me or did you set me free?
Your selfish actions posed as my best company.
A sense of power is what you gave to me;
In return, I granted you a sense of relief.
It was some kind of silent agreement that we reached.
It was some kind of agreement begging to be breached.
I still think of you sometimes, and I have to ask,
"What was he thinking when he did that?"
It disturbs me that most of it was just an act.
It hurts me that you didn't use more tact.