Crimson Prose

Graduate.
Dead End Job.
20.
Artist aka Always broke.
most days I hate my enemies and i love my friends. sometimes i love my enemies
and i hate my friends. But i always both hate and love myself. i guess thats just how the world works. (sigh)

I’m a person, not a posterboy.

lets start off acting like we’re still friends
build up the pressure playing pretend
i’ll say the words waiting on baited breath
and you’ll be accepting to a fault
even these feelings you can’t stop 
but oh wait there’s a little part you forgot 
to mention
is it okay is it okay
are you okay are you okay
is it okay is it okay 
if i don’t want to sound so gay
oh
the way it sounds to me
is you’re not satisfied with who i am
well that’s not fine with me
i need your acceptance so desperately 
and if it all comes down to this
an unfulfilled and undesired lisp
then you can read my lips
i never want to see your face again
is it okay is it okay
we’ll be okay? we’ll be okay?
is it okay is it okay 
if i don’t want to sound so gay
i didn’t think that i needed to fit in
i just thought you were fine with it
i guess i’m sorry i won’t act like a bitch
a bitch 
your bitch
you bitch
if you wanted it this way 
for the whole time
then i guess you just got your wish
you made me fucking cry
if you want a bitch 
then you won’t have to wait in line
i hope you see this 
i really hope you do
because the only friend i had 
i feel like i just lost
in you

A slight ASMR joke at the beginning. But this is just me reading a poem I wrote like 6 years ago.

My brief attempt at covering the Smiths. Also a test of the free recording app that I downloaded.

chants beside the pillow

in trying to touch the places 

that are hard to reach

i’ve got to know do you really feel the same

do you really feel the same way

or is it all just a mistake in perception

from the wrong end of the sheets

excuse me for wanting to progress fiscally and physically

i guess you want me to stay down in the rut you dug for the both of us

hopelessness comes to me in waves

officially we’ll have none of it

but when we sit alone in the shadows of desire

with that last beer in our hands and a cold wind blows the fire

we all just want to love and be loved

and to feel for the first time that life isn’t hopeless

that maybe we’ll make it 

and that all the times you’ve felt like giving up and putting the barrel to your head but didn’t

were really worth something to someone other than your cowardly existence

i’ll spend my last six cents on

gasoline just to burn my feet clean off

and i’ll sell all my drugs to kids to pay for clean socks

because in my mind 

the laundromat is where i’ll meet my end

to sit around for hours and listen to your kids

complain about a free chair

and how you make them wait

to fuck around in the streets just waiting to be hit

and all this i said

oh yeah i said it in my head

as i sit on my porch and light up my smoke

and look down on your brand of cigarettes 

i guess i wander and i wonder

if i’ll ever find my home

even though here i pay rent 

and all my money is spent

on interests to do alone

so that makes me lonely

and when i’m happy i’m really sad

just a sad sack of shit with no vision for the future

and the realization that i’m just like my dad

and that everyone who’s died in the last ten years

can honestly be disappointed to have known that i’m alive

and what i touch will fail

and what i see will all die

at least thats what they taught me in the small town that bought me

my first car and my first group of friends

Reblog if you’re gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

(via aurea-lucem)

strawberrita rhyme night

every time i do this i can’t help but 
feel a little hopeless
my new found dreams are based 
in someone else’s knowledge
for me its day one i’ve got to learn it for myself
if i fail i’ll slit my wrists and act like someone else


if you don’t like me then try me
yeah its like page one in the biography 
written by me about me 
i guess then auto biography
to be attracted to similar anatomy
autonomy
a pedigree 
revolting against everything
i thought was me
because when he loves he 
there exists the similarity 
that love means love
and i found it in unexpected places so what
who’s to judge except the ones who were there at the beginning
to rebuke and renounce 
faith and promises placed at birth is like 
trying to re-lace and replace a perfect gift
given to self
doubt why destroy a family who loved and gives it
why conceive a child if you can’t accept it’s own decisions
why place such weight in free will and self teaching
if you can’t come to terms with ideas reached of its own volition
if that’s the case then raise a rock and etch belief into its faces
unthinking automaton who’s very existence is to fulfill your wishes
there’s a difference between a child and a slave
to live for itself or for the choice the master made
humanity’s a bastard 
we wandered from the herd
so to solve this you slaughter brother’s in the streets
because they don’t obey the word
i know he said to love
and to cast aside you’re hate
so you just pretend and paint the lies upon your face

every time i do this i can’t help

but feel a little hopeless

my new found dreams

are based in someone else’s knowledge

for me it’s day one i’ve gotta do this for myself

if i fail i’ll slit my wrists and act like someone else

 

i really need to vent

i need this job 

so i’ll curb my tongue

and fantasize about quitting

i’m tired of constantly being put down

about wondering what to do next

with the constant sense of imminent termination

without knowing how far to extend my neck

the customers tell me jokes i’ve heard a thousand times

about popcorn and bullshit i hate

and then they guffaw and say with a smile

the amount of fucking bags that they ate

and its not just employees that assume that i’m dense

its customers too and i hate it

they smile and wave as they hold hands over phones

and whisper what a fucking idiot

he has no hope

what a worthless pile he is

maybe he should just kill himself

because he couldn’t help me find some miniscule bolts

and some socks 

well you know what 

maybe i fucking should

because you told me so

you asshat

shitheel

farmer sack of shit