What Is Me?

I lie here in this pit full of shit

Fucked by a freight truck of pain

This damn train of sorrow

There is no tomorrow in this bitch

Which prick will be next

Like a lost bastard, no guidance from my master

My ass skips through the grass

Mother of all fuckers, my mind is like a broken shrine

Half cracked, half split

These words are like a tick

Sucking the perception feeding the lie conservative regression

This poem is explicit, but I won’t be complicit

Rocks of twat, crude, obscene, yet truer than the lies we keep clean.

Jesus Christ, I spit Your name in rage,

God damnit, I’m chained inside this cage.

No hymn, no psalm, just a guttural scream,

faith cracked open like a shattered dream.

Motherfuck the silence, I torch the shrine,

my prayers are ash, my tongue’s not divine.

If I bleed these words, let them drip in flame,

a blasphemous hymn that still calls Your name.

I hate you I said with a fist, yelling aloud to the clouds

They tell me don’t be a pussy.

But it seems like that's pushy.

My words are like a slut, loose that cuts

This cunt of a conscience, I smoke it like a blunt, numb out the truth, let the silence take the brunt.

I am pissed at the emasculation of men,

the domineering of women,

The rules of Liberty and language are twisted thin.

I used to be pissed, now I’m scorched.

Every syllable a torch,

burning the script they force-fed my throat.

Fuck their polite regressions,

fuck their neat confessions

I’m breaking grammar with spit and piss

Now I am remiss that this poem came at a twist

Violently vulgar, no apology

Now I turn to ontology

What is being, and what is me?