I Hate My Life (Spoken Word)

I hate my life,
No, really I do,
I don't even know why.
More often than not at night it seems
My voice is silenced by my own screams
Caught in my throat like chip
I drink, It moves
Slowly etching its way down my esophogus.

And it hurts me,
No, really it does,
I am trying to be happy,
But my face is like one of those Walmart smiley face stickers,
Only its red, stained with my tears like blood,
And instead of rolling back prices
I'm rolling back crisis after crisis,
Tipping bottle after bottle,
Only its getting harder to stay a float.

And I am drowning,
No, really, I am sinking like a rock,
Have you heard of the Titanic?
That's me.
And believe me there ain't no happy love scenes,
Cause I am alone
Sinking helplessly into the icey sea,
Slipping seemlessly into the darkness
Only to be escovated when the CO2 I produce is missed
And my silence turns up absent.

And I am cutting,
No, really I am slicing piecies of me,
Like a butcher I am chopping this woman into mince meat,
Hoping to beat new life into her,
With make-up, eyeliner, tweezers like knives,
Attempting to cut down cast eyes and upside down crescent moon shaped lips into a smile and delightful gaze.
Only to find myself sludging through the haze of my own blood when accidently slicing veins and arteries that feed my heart and my self-love.

And I am bleeding
No, really I am gushing.
Sitting in pools of my own viscera and mayheim
And it is only getting deeper.
So against the lifeguards warnings I climb up to the highest diving board
And I commit myself to falling to my mess
I complacently give up
Residing to just live in it because I couldn't study hard enough for this test.

And I am insecure,
No, really insecurity is my daily fit,
I reach into my closet and I clothe myself in it
Low self-esteem
And instead of sifting through hopes and dreams
I am digging through air brushed models and dirty magazines
I am taking limbs from manequins and replacing my own with plastic implants and silcone domes
I am leaping from airplanes of self-unacceptance without a parachute

And I am falling
No, really I am one mis-step from failing
I am holding a hand full of jokers and I at any moment I'll fold
And all you self-righteous bastards staring down your noses at me will say,
"We told you so"
And like my father's ancestors hauled on to ships sold into slavery my mother's lineage
I will sale myself short to poor theological manefestation and half-hearted inclinations
And I will thus be colonized by past indescretions finding sanctity in partial confessions
And there will be none of me left in my possession

They say sometimes things fall apart
But I am always falling apart
And if all the world is a stage I am its greatest actress
Cause I pick up my cross daily
No I pick up my mask daily
And with semi permanent marker on white board face I draw on a smile
And as you pass by I throw you an arbitrary glance

Cause I am a Christian
But really I am a hypocrite
And I wouldn't want you to know that I am a sinner and not a saint
So I live in spray painted surroundings and mirrages of what could be
If I would only let go and say "Hey world this is the real me and I am struggling"
No really I am suffering
No really I am teeter tottering on faith
But the Word says that whomever loves his life will lose
But whomever hates his life for me will save it
And I hate my life
No really I do
So, am I saved?