?

My hands are shaking
My stomach's aching.
What can I do to stop the hating?
My eyes are dead, my head split vision.
I see my double lieing across adjacent.
I can't stand looking at mirrors.
All I my thoughts and dreams are mirrored
Got a drink here, strong, bitter.
Can't think clear go on quitter.
End it all. Be a fool, fall, call out and end up splitted.
No-one will miss ya.
At your funeral, your ass they'll all kiss yeah, but none of them gives a shit man.

I feel like the Incredibe Hulk.
My back has been broke and I can still walk.
Why have I suddenly had a burst of anger?
It's strange. I'm not pissed off. Upset.
I just have a sense of urgency about me. Bring everyone up to speed.
Jog their memories.
Remember me? I'm the kid who used to make you all laugh.
No? Oh okay.
Who am I now? I don't know. It's not a horrible feeling if I'm honest.
It means I can be who I like. Different masks for different occasions.
Woman-bashing chauvanist in one place.
Casanova in another.
Predator. Hiss my lines. Snare you in. Next thing you know I've devoured you for better or worse.

I have no cares for you plastic people anymore. I used to enjoy baiting you.
Now I enjoy sitting back and watching you destroy yourselves.
Maturity. Amazing thing. I'll lose it soon enough so for now be appreciative.
I hit my bottom the other day. I have no intention of pulling myself back up.
I'd rather wallow in this fucked up mindset I'm in. It's fun.
"Fuck the world" I scream. Nah too much effort.
Time to fall back onto the good days of whiskey,cigarettes and lust.
Not that I'll act on it. I have an uncaring female to hold tending too first.
With that said and done. Sleep well. Why I'm even writing this I have no idea nobody reads it.
But hey better out than in ay?

Sore sight.

You're just showing me what I despise.
A sore sight for sore eyes.
Jealousy raring it's ugly fucking head and attacking me, tackling me to the ground.
I try to kick it off me,wrestle it but its a feeble attempt.
In all honesty I love this feeling. I love the feeling of conflict. Enjoy it too.
Can I explain why I'm taken under? Yes and no.
I hate the fact all you do is mention other lads. Comparisons if you will.
I hate the fact that you still keep in touch with your ex. He that amazing?
Go back to him. I'll still be here face down in my own vomit. Churned up within my turmoiled soul.
It shouldn't even bother me. Really shouldn't. My minds past the point of reasoning.
Fuck it. Pick up move on. There are no metaphors I want to lay down here.
I've got nothing I can hide behind. Simply the fact is you piss me off good and proper.
And yet I can't leave it. Is it your vagina? Most likely. Is it the laughs we have? probably.
But fuck it. Play your game. Go. Play. Have fun. Just don't blame me when my heart reverts back to the dirt from whence it came.