Why am I always the second rate fucker?
Shitting pencil shavings and urging myself to keep living.
Why can’t anyone just want me?
I just want to be fucking held tightly,
Touched by warm hands,
Skin on Skin,
To have someone just fucking there for me, for once.
It’s too late,
I look like a hairless spaniel,
All flabby cheeks and sunken eyes,
I smack of loneliness,
A terrible stench of pain and suffering,
The browning banana.
My chest just constantly feels hollow.
I can’t even weep for myself anymore.