Hypocrisy Goes To The Beach

Aren’t I just the picture of perfection?
A smug meta self satisfied mad bag of cunts,
or whatever,
tipping my bitten thumb as they display.
Hiding under the devil’s lamp shade,
I am a tankard of sanctimonious frigging and
a lost and fragile cereal box in drag,
lurking behind cigarette smog and a hat,
mocking their so called failings
and crying about mine.


11 thoughts on “Hypocrisy Goes To The Beach

  1. a lost and fragile cereal box in drag…this conjures up the image of an inner child for me. I feel the truth in that poem.

  2. I don’t think you’re a hypocrite – I don’t even like the word hypocrite. Change is always easier said than done, problems always easier to theoretically untangle when they happen to someone else than to yourself. You will eventually learn from others and from your own mistakes and be the better for it. Just keep swimming!

  3. I can relate to the panic attacks. You know what, it mostly comes from not being comfortable in your own skin. Not being cool with who you are, what you do and what you’re all about. I’ll share something with you that I rarely share with anyone, and maybe it will help you. I used to lie in bed next to my lovers and feel afraid to breathe. Why? Because I thought they would think badly of me for breathing, for being, for daring to make a noise. When I realized that about myself I had an epiphany: FUCK THAT SHIT! I HAVE A RIGHT TO EXIST! And if somebody is bothered by my existence they can GO AWAY. I will find someone who loves me for who I am someday, and until then I will love myself.
    Love yourself, man. You are perfect the way you are. And if you don’t like certain things about yourself then it is you who has the ability to change those things. But do it because YOU want to. To hell with everybody else who doesn’t have your back. BTW, I really like your poem.

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