pull back the zipper lips of this cold, marble façade
and rip open the soul, digging at the chest cavity with wrought iron fingers
better fit for squeezing the life from my own throat
than extending to you any form of hope.

this self-deprecation leaves me gasping, rasping, clasping on
to a truth i’ve come to believe was only a lie.
is there really any use in hoping anymore?

you see, i’ve got fish eggs for eyes
and mop strings for strands of hair.
i’ve got yellow teeth like caution tape
and a haggard beard that my momma says she hates.

i got more dirt under my nails than a trash compactor
and more black on my soul
than black-lunged cancer patients waiting in hospices, ready to choke down one last smoke.

i’m a monster who drinks lust
and dines on the flesh,
a hypocrite, a cheapskate, and a fake.
so, with God as my witness, i stand not a man
but something far more foul and gruesome.

i am my own judge, jury, and executioner
i am the skeleton hiding in my closet.
this here’s the second-hand cigarette smoke that i breathe
it’s makin’ its home in these discrepant lungs
while these words burn my throat like gasoline rum.

and maybe these words are nothing but the stink and filth
and rot that i espouse—yet, i’ll fill my lungs with shouts
and try and cast aside your doubts.

it’s been so long since i’ve had a home
seems like every new place i go
is fraught with failed expectation.
and if the journey’s truly the destination
then, why do i so long for the pace to slow?

darling, trust me, i am bruising and i am lusting
but, i swear, in the end i’ll somehow work it out.

my friends, it might be better if you cover your ears
submerged beneath the waves of sound and oblivion
than listen to the syllables that froth on my lips
the foam licking the beach’s shore, like a kiss.
i’ve hidden behind ambiguity for God knows how long
hiding this—flesh—beneath an exoskeleton.
i am a contradiction, and my walk has become a crawl
my Bible’s just an ornament hanging in the hall
and the fragments of my sanity stain my crimson skin.
but, you’ll smile politely, perfect teeth gleaming
because you have no idea of the anguish that wrestles in my stomach.

she says i’m chasing romance,
tryin’ to fill this hole in my heart with temporal happiness,
but she’s only right in part.
yeah, she’s only right in part!
‘cause, you best believe, i’m lookin’ to be satisfied
and no amount of niceties can convince me that i’m anything more than worthless!

my momma said, “actions speak louder than words,”
so, go ahead, darlin’, say the words you think i need to hear,
all the while telling me i’m nothing in a way far more sincere.

they say quit lookin’ to your past
but it’s so hard when i have no hopes for the future.
all that’s passed is shame and regrets
and i’ve become defined (confined!) by my guilt.

like Simon Peter, i fall at Your feet,
“Lord, get away from me, i’m so unworthy.”
God, i’m so unworthy, so inadequate.

so, how can You tell me that i have value when,
for so long,
i’ve found security in my insecurities?
and, yet, You propose to value the valueless,
to give worth to the worthless.

oh, Eternal Optimist, come redefine this legacy of mine.
‘cause God You say i’m altogether beautiful and i can see that in everyone else, but
when i look at my reflection i am filled to the brim with bitterness and resentment.

God, You say i’m beautiful, but i can’t see it!
i’m blinded by this broken heart, these lines of red that lacerate my soul.
God, how could You ever love a monster like me?
i think You’re crazy for loving a wretch like me,
for i so often give You the finger
when You lean in close to me.
how can You love me when i hate me?
You love me when i hate me
i hate me
hate me.