Social Fucking Structure in Gathering of Poetry and Fiction

There are certain things that are just lost on me.
Social convention?
What’s that?
Social structure?
Standard conversational ques?
Tact.
Yeah right.
Perhaps I missunderstand everyone else as much as they do me.
How could I expect to be understood in such a strange society?

You tried so hard to be nice.
I told you premarital sex was wrong.
You disagreed.
As if that would make me feel better about my mistakes.
Just accept my fucking apology.
I told you I hold myself to a higher standard.
That I’m ashamed of my mistakes.
You said I shouldn’t be.

You said it shouldn’t matter what one person thinks.
But also that you are the only one who stands up for me.
So its not one person is it?
Do you defend me?
Is that before or after you talk about me like a slutty groupie?
And all this anger
It all came after.
Almost a year of celebacy and now you’ve decided Im a whore.
Funny how you work, girl.

One minute I’m a bitch and you’re going to kick my ass.
The next you are saying what a good and beautiful person I am.
Really?
It’s funny how I didn’t doubt my beauty until people felt the need to reassure me.

Relativity.
Nonesense.
The standard has been set.
For me.
Do you have one at all?
Trying hard not to hurt anyone is just not enough.
Sometimes hurt is necissary.
It’s there anyway.
For all of us.
But you close your eyes.
Maybe if you ignore it then it will go away! (sarcasm)

I’m so sick of small talk.
It makes me want to hurl.
A predesigned set of exchanged lies that are expected and taught to every boy and girl.

How are you? I’m good how about you? I’m good too. It’s nice to see you. Likewise. You look great today. You do too.

Is any of this shit true?

Almost never.

But it’s rude if I don’t lie to you.

Can someone tell me something real for once?

Slowly widdling away time and rotting my mind with these pointless routines.

I call them happy face.
All those people
That say what you want to hear.
Happy face elsewhere my dear.

Last updated March 16, 2018