My dark little girl
your slate eyes level me.
Those cruel thoughts that swim about.
I drown in your loathing.
I swim in your desire.
We are the unmentionable.
The wicked laugh, the harsh tongue.
Far too removed to love-Far too close to hate.
For we are what they think of.
The ones who prey in the black of night.
So silence all
Cry a noiseless cry.
Level me with your gaze.
Charles Bukowski once said, “Real loneliness is not necessarily limited to when you are alone.” Damn, if that is not the most honest thing I have ever heard then what is? Self worth by definition, is the value of oneself. How much are we worth? How much are YOU worth? And who, is willing to pay that price. How many times have I found myself in a bed, car, pool…? Far too close to another and far too distant from myself. The ultimate high is acknowledging your own beauty, not a stranger speaking from adrenaline. The beauty of the individual is the fact that we can clean the slate. Not one other soul can dictate how we move on from this moment. This moment RIGHT HERE. When we walk away from our thoughts, our dark lonely thoughts, which direction do we take? Who the FUCK honestly knows? All I know is, for each stranger who praises me, I no longer want to praise myself. Remember this baby, self praise is what counts. The only person we live with till we die, is the precious fiend staring back in the mirror. So love, don’t love, fuck or don’t fuck. But whatever actions that are taken; the actions are YOURS.
Listen to the Weight of the Worth