A Razor Blade Opera

                On the Cutting Edge Of Pretension 
It never fails to give me an excuse to be catty         

In fact, you're the number one choice                                      Pools of liquid shame
If you dare claw up our former love nest                                Children frolic in the waves
I'll come back and smack you in the face.                               Choking on the waste.
Did I hurt your poor little feelings?
Your voice has many tiny razor-like talons
That puncture your lies.  You've been betrayed.                  
You claimed you were perfection personified.

But like those starving little girls you love 
You will never win--never be a professor
And as your paper mache world
Is tossed nonchalantly into the fire.

I give up.  Just keep pretending
That you're worth an intervention
Frankly, you are beyond redemption
Not even a corrupted priest will touch you.


 I hear and see some anger in your voice and mannerisms. You're so good at hiding it, I must say and I give you props for that. But there comes a time (and I'm referring to you) when petty nuances, fretting over numbers that have obviously gained too much importance and have enslaved you and setting the stage for that crazy mirror you just cannot put down. You are your own worst enemy.

I could have told you it was going to be hard
Fraying hopes and dreams are an illusion
 But why are you so adamant to refute me?                          

Fighting with yourself can only end in disaster.                            

Don't depend on those you think are your friends
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Being underneath a darkening world
Is jealousy the captain of retaliation for you?

Please retreat to the unwelcoming universe
Your frantic swimming cannot wash away those sins
So you may as well end up in the dry darkening hell
For it appears that your heroic efforts are in vain

So just go crawling back to reality if that's what you want
But those cold talons are actually ugly razor wire
If you're hellbent on wasting your money on false hope
Then I will leave you awash in denile and all that comes with it.




Any sense of the sand on that beach
Can have cries for help crashing

Erasing any proof that you were here
Waves, ah those miniscule, unforgiving
Facial lines that have stubbornly
Refused to go out with the tide.

You bring out the better of me, you know         
I highly suspect it's because 
You're able to scream so hard 
That those slow-moving losers
In your perfect suburban paradise.

Lonelyheroine 2018                                                  

Sisters shouldn't spray themselves      He's your brother you moron
With Mother Mary's holy water          You treat him as if he didn't exist.          
And then deface public property          And you wonder why everyone
Your bids for mother's approval           Wants you drawn and quartered.

At least they had something to do. Better than empty streets and sidewalks on which to ruminate. Too much time. Way too many astro-turf lawns and not nearly enough stimulating life forms to cure at least one denizen before he or she slips under frothy waves of infinite boredom. You must run as far away as you can. Do not hesitate to gather meaningless trinkets--there will be no homesickness after you become one with a cloying Stepford mentality. Good luck. 

                        Bath tub: Check
                        Hot water: Check
                        Razor Blade: Check.

All that remains of a tortured, angry young man, is a bleeding, tepid and lukewarm water. Not much of a eulogy. But at least he escaped mediocrity. So, it's all good. Isn't it?

Here's some much needed comedy relief. Things are getting pretty dark, aren't they? Even or me and that's saying something.


She won't kill herself. What a stupid display.    

It's purely an act. She should be on the stage.
Instead of engaging in this weird behaviour
She needs to settle down. She's embarrassing.

Not again! You say she's standing on a ledge
Ready to plunge to her death. What nonsence
She's on the second floor. Drama Queen.
Susan had cried wolf so may times.

No-one took this girl's threats seriously now
She needs a shrink to get off the "Pity Train."
Ruth and Holly joined in the "fun." 
Laughing up a storm. Just then, they paused

Hearing a deafening scream. What was going on?
Why is an ambulance speeding to Susan's house?
I don't believe that idiot. Calling an ambulance.
Ruth and Holly rushed to the scene, ready to laugh.
When they got there, they saw what was left of Sue

"Oh My God! Sue must have leapt from the 10th floor!

                                                                    Suicide is, most likely, the death of hope
                 Of finding no alternative--don't judge me                 No drug will soothe a burning soul.
                 No-one left----the world's imploding         




She's frail and elderly now.
lipping into a warm Holy bath                                    
And is absolved of her sins.    
Why, then, did she want a razor?

Don't be such a hypocrite
She wormed herself into 
Your comfortable existence                         
And now you are eulogising 

    A terrible daughter.

You should know about this
You nestle yourself between
Your never-ending blindness
And your voracious need

For validation, respect and power.

Just Another Day In the Life Of A Narcissistic Sociopath

You asked me if I believe you're insane
Is that a loaded question or what?
You're always driving in the wrong lane
Just hoping one day you'll be caught.

Oh, you think that I'm just being dense
That I'm somehow destroying your life
Well, in actuality I'm mending your fence
Can you see that this crap's causing me strife?

It's always about you, isn't it? You haven't changed a bit. 
When a friend lies dying, you fear attention won't be on you
You dismiss her and then pretend to have an epileptic fit.
Well, Sara's passed.  You blew off her funeral. What else is new?

You can run but you can't  hide                            
It will always happen to us all.
Shaving off a few years may help
But wrinkles will always prevail.

Pump botox into a time-ravaged face
It's the plague, don't you know?
This would make a great movie
Not Oscar-worthy, but devastating.

Annette Funicello succumbed 
To the devastating and heartless
Multiple Sclerosis killing machine.
And yet, you sidestepped compassion.

So, face fillers are unable to accomplish
The chubby look of a youthful child
Just put down the scalpel and chill
I'm talking to you Father Time.

lonelyheroine 2018.                                    






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