i hate myself and want to die (by nirvana)

random thoughts. unedited.

i feel everything too loudly and too much.

over analyzing the subtle glances and careful steps. 

my mom tells me to keep the mouth inside my brain shut. 

but nothing is ever that easy. 

it's not a matter of  "just letting go" or 

"stopping my heart from exploding."

i know i'm difficult and you can't take it

but i don't like myself that much either. 

and i'm just trying not to dig my chipped fingernails 

into my veins

and remove the bones from underneath 

my "unattractive" powdery skin. 

maybe you could use my corpse as spare parts. 

throw me in the junkyard 

and use me to build another hopeless teen. 

just don't forget to bury my teeth.

after you drown my body in a tub of acid. 

i'm bitter and cynical and old at sixteen. 

but if i let my compassionate side show 

they'll label me as weak.

darling they're gonna rip me apart

with their automatic rifles 

and perfectly manicured claws. 

but they'll soon feel my anger wrapped up 

in three sugary layers of kindness 

like a bullet straight to the throat.

they all just wanna see me choke.  

i just can't keep going on like a ghost 

vying to find Heaven in those chestnut eyes of his,

considering that the subject matter 

of my last 5 poems doesn't even know i exist. 

even though i followed his face on instagram

and liked a picture of his dog. 

my head is full of obsessive compulsive thoughts. 

that little pocket mirror is yelling at me again.

saying my nose resembles squidward's 

and all of that good s**t. 

but unfortunately i can't fix what i was born with. 

i calmly whisper for it to shut up 

but nothing ever listens to my squeaky voice. 

my body can't handle my scattered and neurotic thoughts anymore. 

i can't breathe. 

and my fingers are pulling apart at the seams. 

i'll ask again: are they really any better than me? 

i'm lonely and sad and horny.

i just want somebody to adore me 

but until then at least i have my left hand. 

is he thinking about the heavy black eyeliner smudged against my baby face? 

or am i giving myself too much credit again? 

i think my mom was right.

i just need to let go of the idea of his slender fingertips brushing past my lips

and stop suffocating inside the plastic bag

i tied around my own head. 

Author's Note

Style of capitalization is obviously done on purpose so please no criticism on that aspect. This is a lot different from I usually write so yeah it might suck ,it might not completely but what do I know. Anyway, please leave a review it would be greatly appreciated.

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

Well then... I'm glad I read this. You have great potential.

That was already pretty f*****g good. But the first few stanzas were written lively and with a unique vigor.... more than the last half.

I like how you paint yourself with words. You're kind of whiny though, and you dwell on silly things. But who cares about that, you write very well and you're very young. It could get worse if you're not careful though... arf! "too loudly and too much"... ha... that's a good line man... naturally.

[Tim]

You might have chatterbrain. I had it. It leads you to overthink everything. Believe it or not, it may have to do with your diet. Sounds crazy but it might be true. Other than that, I got nuthin.