kill me, teach me

"so" i say, staring at the mirror,
"is this what i tried to be?
can it be that easy for my mask to disappear,
and the world i tried to fool
to see the real me?"
scared, angry and almost confused
i hid underneath the words i carefully penned
and hope you didn't see.
now i'm speaking from what others taught me,
afraid to ever think again.
if i can't be me,
if i can't even pretend,
how can you judge,
how can you say what is real?
taking my wisdom from punches i've thrown,
learning to go on from the dust i've bitten,
i pick myself up and ask for more.
break me, kill me, teach me!

war

it's a battle i can't win,
the horror of it all will eat me alive.
i will die with the knife in my hand,
as long as it has your blood on it.
the paper monsters i've been fighting
these last few months
have left paper cuts
so deep,
so many,
so real.
i hate the wait,
i can't bear to start again, it's crazy,
i'm older,
i'm too young.
deep inside, the concrete walls of my judgment
are falling,
one by one.
i'm back to war,
against paper monsters
and you.

who i am

tired,
on the verge of trading places
i reconsider painting faces.
lost,
in the middle of a nameless crisis
i submit my protests in the book of lies.
and i go back
so i can be again,
free from prejudice
and hoping to get a new name:
i am Speak,
because i say these words,
i am Fight,
from winning all your wars.
i am who i want to be,
not because i can-
it's what you made of me.

portrait of the artist as a lunatic

i criticize myself, and go back to the beginning
once every two minutes.
when i'm old enough and
my wings are ready
i'll jump off the building i designed.
stardust on my nails,
fire and brimstone in my veins,
i change my mind
once every two world wars.
call me a genius
or call me at midnight,
i'll save your soul and hold grudges for you.
tired of predicting the end of the world
i take a long pause
and smoke another cigarette,
once every two light years.

don't

don't worry, i'm slow to react
but i'll come around
and hit you back.
don't miss me, i'm quick to forget
still, somehow i'll get back
my mind.
don't fear me, i'm harmless
but i'll knock
the shit out of you.
don't find me, i'm not here right now,
just wait,
you'll hear me scream your name
when i feel like it.

an aggravation of my own confusion

the voices in my head are all vacant,
i only hear a mumble,
a whispering crowd confusing me.
i can't tell what's real anymore,
so i wait,
i stop.
running around in circles,
praying for a revelation,
i get dizzy,
i fall.
the voices in my head are on strike,
i can now hear everything out there,
but inside my head i'm lost,
so i wait,
i stop
.

tips on how to...

"the best things", i say,
"are affordable and you get them at
half price,
when you least expect".
this is a conversation i've been having
with myself for years,
but i still
can't find the point.
cruising between duties,
i pick my favorites
and the rest of them i put them
in a sordid category,
the "i'm too young for this" one.
cracking jokes and heads as i
take over the world,
unknowingly and unaware
of my flaws,
i build my walls,
criticism-proof.
i'm too good for you,
still,
i can teach you a few things about
taking advantage of your own
indifference.
just leave a name and number
and i'll get back to you,
when i get my head out of the clouds.