Applaud the Abuse

Each tilt of the bottle,
a surgeon's cut,
precise & concentrated
a sober effort
to becoming not.

To launch the mind,
from such stale states,
into tumult and storm,
churn and chunder,
raising mad hell
from within.

To be reborn
a screaming Banshee,
raging in the streets,
kicking and biting.

To rage against
the ones we love,
and to personify
the darkness
so cleverly hidden
behind such putrid lies.

No one cares
No one cares
No one cares

Your private tragedies
illicit no reprieve,
no rescue, no pity,
only spite and disgust.

No one will kiss you,
after you puke,
no matter how good,
your poems may be.

Fuck it,
I'm in love
with myself
each time I do it.