The Hypocrite

My soul, stretched nose eyes lips, knee deep in a pillow case. White vinyl sketch the outlines of a shattered existence stencil pierced with the want for the ability to conform but cursed with the inability to stretch a smile across these tense lips for the simplicity of another goddamn fart joke. i mean how old are we gym short wearing sweatshirt half unzipped ladies and gentlemen? But back to self involvement. I shout a scream at book cover judgement yet justify a quick glare at a buckle pair of shorts, fossil watch, affliction t-shirt. We speak of hypocrisy in the church but dare we stare in this fogged mirror, fresh from the shower, alone with our thoughts, stripped of our masks, and honestly like to ourselves and say that WE aren't hypocrites? oh yes a quick point of a finger is easy until you twist the wrist and stare down the fleshy barrel of your own finger pistol judgement. And still, as i laugh at myself for these societal injustices i commit, insistence its love, depression in a country were NO ONE has the right to be depressed, opinion on things that I have no business in,STILL, my eyes well with tears, my heart with pain, my soul continuous to bury its screams in the pillow case. My hate for society screams laughter back in my face because, see, I'm no better. I'm every christian slapping bibles across a broken wing, every republican with an aborted grand kid, and every closet homosexual jock beating up the weak kids in the locker room. So as this loneliness crushes down on me and tear drops stain my face i KNOW that i deserve it. Because I'm everyone i love to push away. So feel free to judge my 2+2=5, big brother, 1984 peers. because i assure you I'm judging right back. And for this, i apologize, I mean, I really do. But just so you know, and just between you and i, its just because I'm jealous.





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