true wealth. (By: Chris Hathaway)

her thin skin abused by silver tongues equipped with sharp wit. she is beautiful, but inside she feels like shit. a mirror is her worst enemy, yet she constantly confronts her adversary. nothing moves her anymore and there’s nothing more scary then the pain that she has carried, the feelings she has buried, the shame, the blame, the unwillingness to forgive herself for the self loathing she has married. her image is liken to a goddess. a Queen amongst peasants. for only if she knew the truth, that her ultimate present is her presence. she would finally live her life the way it was meant to be lived. she is a woman of natural beauty yet she is blind to see it in herself. one day she will, and therein lies true wealth. “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”

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your own body (own your body) (By: Chris Hathaway)

you are a crummy lock, that accepts many keys. your inhibitions are invisible like a breeze through dense trees. you feel at ease when you tease or when you get on your knees. you see your own body as free honey for bees, and your motto is “just as long as nobody sees.” well everyone does and no one agrees. you squalor your own perspective of a respective self esteem. you act to attract and you say what you don’t mean. to you, being romantic is being obscene. you’ve lost all tenderness your eyes lost their gleam. you will never love truly, you’ll never seem serene. but I wish you well, in all of your future endeavors. I hope you fall in love, and keep falling forever. and ever.

Seeds. (By: Chris Hathaway)

I murdered the raven and banished the canary. lies for some is like weight to be carried while truth like hatchets are meant to be buried. try to be there for them or try being selfish, the results are varied. I’ll be damned to be my parents, divorced in their hearts but still fucking married. I want the world to have better manners, and quit while it’s behind. from war to ailing kids to poverty, I’m starting to lose my mind. racing through the dark like bats going blind, I take the time to write just what the I feel inside. for the off chance, the slight chance that you’ll feel something. a tug, a pull, a sever of your heartstring. but you are just like me, and we are just feeling. that’s all humans do is eat sleep and feel everything. pain. trauma. the disappointment of our momma. the grief, the sickness, the defeat. the joy, the laughter, the feeling of feeling complete. the latter leaves the former feeling obsolete. to gain it all you must take the fall and run while others crawl, give it your all to cheat. and if by the end of your road your dreams aren’t fulfilled at least you showed passion. which is missing from this world in a major way like gratitude and compassion. but who am I to decide what this world needs? no one important, I’m just planting my seeds.

Unique. (By: Chris Hathaway)

you can’t turn unique on and off. you’re not strange or unusual, you’re just a jerk off. stop pretending to be a loser, you’re actually socially well off. you have many friends and you can’t turn the swell off. you know who’s really unique? that asian kid that you called a creep. the one that hugged you from behind and liked to stare at your feet. yes, he… he’s a character. you’re just a caricature. of what unique should be and is to me. see, unique to me, is not saying that you are. there are a lot of people that are but you don’t see/hear them because they are…. shunned.

That’s why. (By: Chris Hathaway)

there you go, on your phone. you barely trust the one you love and yet you guys bone. it’s pathetic. why don’t you leave him/her alone? but what do I know? I’ve never had one to call my own. it just seems that the more you love, the less you live. and the ones you love are trapped because you don’t let them live. paranoid accusations leak outta you like a sieve. what a waste of what could’ve have been if you just had more to give, instead of take. people in love disguise I’m sick to death of you and call it “taking a break” you know why you’ll end up alone? because your relationships are maintained by you on your god damn phone. that’s why.

Old Inside. (By: Chris Hathaway)

I rather have creation than have conversation. people are annoying and I can never feel relation. I really wish people would practice what they preach. I don’t need your lectures or for you to try and teach. God forbid you shut your mouth and actually try to reach, my heart. People wear masks from the very start. And we wonder why we feel so apart. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I say it countless times. Repeating what we don’t mean but at least I’ve tried. You’ve aged me 50 years and I feel real old inside. Round and Round we go like Merry Go Rounds but no one’s smiling. No one’s laughing but everyone’s relying, on their hope. I guess that’s all we really need, you and I. What a fucking joke.

Documenting The Devastating. (By: Chris Hathaway)

my hand smears the ink staining the thoughts I think. like bloody hands of a killer on a white porcelain sink. I lie on the brink of self imposed destruction but I’ve not yet arrived so order me a drink. I’ll have another. keep em coming like boyfriends inside a neglectful mother. this world is ice cold, or maybe it’s just us. integrity got shot through the heart by deceit, violence, and lust. forgetting everything you stand for is a definite must. to survive. sell out? I rather charge a beehive, chain myself to an anchor and take the dive or decide to drink and drive. some of us are a waste of space and are lucky to be alive, but nothing more. instead of counting blessings we’re asking God for more. that’s the problem with our country; our belly’s full and we order more. we stack missed opportunities like teams failing to score, we miss what we take for granted like Poe missed Lenore. (nevermore. nevermore.) This generation is degenerating. Documenting The Devastating. Throwing away what’s worth creating like compulsive masturbating. Pointing our fingers with three pointed back at what we’re really hating. Desperately searching for the one that has trouble relating… Just like I do.