And I sort of fell in love with plastic cups.
The ability to fall, and never break apart.
Because, as for me.
I'm just a glass positioned a little to close to the edge of the table.

Plastic People, with their rubber dreams and artificial passions.
They're raised by their plastic parents who give them wax smiles, hollow promises for a future.
Plastic people and their perfectly polished personalities have superficial beliefs, in which they are the center.
Their corrupt ideals on intelligence place people in categories of A through F, score others out of 100.
Plastic people know nothing beyond the realm of themselves. Their selfless actions preceded by selfish thoughts.
Skills wasted singing self-centered songs, writing conceited poetry.
A plastic person does not know that they are plastic, but will accuse others of being so.
Now, what does that make me?

It seems that these days nothing is real
The world around me shimmers artificially
Women will have procedures done to fit into the world of plastic
Men find it more simple to use cheep tricks to get a night of love
People on the street dress to make the illusion of perfection
Little girls stuff their bra's and paint on geisha faces pretending to be grown up
The sad truth is that,
Nobody is genuine anymore

The silence of non-attachment.
Living in the satisfaction of now.
Old arrows pierce my skin,
Yet not allowing them to penetrate my mind.

Yet I’m trying to push myself to be better,
But better is relative
And I’m abiding in eternity in non-action.

I go to work, eat, sleep,
Communicate, read, and entertain myself,
Yet not attaching to a better reality:
Such as a better body, a keener mind
Or a more pure soul
I’m thanking God for my existence just the way I am
Knowing that the only place to be is now.

I feel more sedated than alive,

Defying reason and questioning reality,

It’s like morbidly walking through

The endless fields of familiarity.

Slowly losing the ability to feel,

I can no longer distinct what is real,

Cold melancholy and apathy creep in my heart,

My existence becomes shrouded; like a rainbow in the dark.

Testing the bounds of sanity,

Human excess and passion flood the mind,

Releasing any bonds of any kind,

As I’m consumed by the snakes of vanity.

Laying among the ruins of my life,

As my paradise plummets down to Hell,

Because the confusion of chaos defeated me,

With kind words of reverence.

“Pride cometh before the Fall”,

As narcissism festers in self-loathing,

The feeling which makes your soul crawl,

Will cause intimacy to be exposed like clothing.

Fear is a thief for whom I hold no grudge,

And pain is a rehearsal for death.

I looked down at the abyss and took the lunge,

As my world was compressed into a single last breath.

I believe my soul is rotten
Yet you say it is not

I see my face, it's so ugly
Yet you say I'm pretty

I think my body is destroyed
Yet you say I've earned my stripes

I know my heart is beyond repair
Yet you say you'll help mend it

Can you really see so deep into my eyes?
Into my soul?
My heart?
Sometimes I think you're blind
Because everything about me is *torn all apart

If love means
wanting you to be near me everytime
then i love you
If love means
being jealous but understanding it then i love you
If love means
waiting for you to talk to me
then i love you

If love means
being happy with the little things then i love you
If love means
putting you first before me
then i love you so much.

I do not know anyway else to tell you this
But
If love means
accepting your flaws,
your imperfections,
your mistakes
then i am very much
in love with you.

I love you
Your past
Your present
Your future
I love you
The whole you.
I love you.

I'll stitch myself together
with the most misshapen parts
and sharpest shards of who I am;
not so that I might return
to who I once was,
but in hopes that I might
become something better,
or at least someone
somewhat whole again.