want be emo

16% of the uk like trump

less than half supported his visit to the uk

people dislike trump so much they speak openly about it with pwople theyve never met

73% of the uk support an imediate caesfire in gaza

but we still support trump

our kings agreed to visit america

and the uk still supports isreal

THIS IS NOT DEMOCRACY

THE PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE POWER

THIS IS PRETENCE

kimi

uMzansi isi-happiness.

uMzansi eHome.

uMzansi kwa-the-motherland.

Mzansi, ngiyibonile, futhi ngikwedone.

uMzansi ifa lami,

uMzansi indawo.

uMzansi lami sisterhood,

uMzansi lami home.

uMzansi is all of this.

Mzansi, you are me.

Mzansi, you are all of this,

kodwa,

awusiye owami.

is he perfect

or is that my apprehension

could it be

when everyone agrees

ive called it love

ive called it jellousy

ive called it evrn fact

the smile; the nose

is everything i wish i'd be

is it some fetish

that im jellous of his toes

call it lust or envy

call me serial

call my psycopathic

that i could wear his skin

call me a terrorist beenath his hide

call me the kamikaze jet

call me suicide

when it reaches me its all perverted and destroyed

i should eat him

consume

the way his hair grows

the folding of his perfect nose

prim precision of his toes yes toes

every piececof lengerie or clothes

call me strange but in black or white or grey

the foot just fits so neatly

and the lips

that kiss the wind like theyd kiss you as his lover

or even the way he moves

the colours of his eyes

the blues

the greys

tell me hes so great

i already know

call me his stalker

the expert

his friend

aye that

yes those

and i should call him love

or friend

or enemy

this is me mirror

do you see all of me

all my cuts my bruises my wounds

when i undress for you

glory in the detail of my design

my naked cholar bones

my skinny arms

the stratches on my cheek

blood shot eyes

from hayfever or from crying

take in all of me

the way i tilt you up

so i cant see my lower half and you cant too

but marvel

in cuts along my shoulder

my my neck thats blazed with bruise

watch

my shirt come lifting up

but never see

the penis tween my thighs

dont watch

me run my fingers long my cuts

as i run them through my hair

or rub them on my eyes

look away

when i wish a freind would feel my scars

wish they would love me with caress

see my naked armpits

but never see my pubes

see my shirt

too baggy

my whole flat chest put in full gaze

but upper arms covered

helping heal

leaving the cuts to fade

see as i vomit at my hands too long

grimace at my hair

always hate it all but another day compare

how good i look that day

till the polaroid film steals that joy away

see me smooth my nose

stretch my lips

turn the corners

and the cupids bow

moisturise

watch me look down

gag at me feet

gag at my croch

bloody myself my demise

im so pretty

then the whole week

whenever i feel down i tell myself

thats the real me

but if it is

why do others not think so

why am i still so unloved

why does everyone universaly know

its not

its very much living

what do the ladies whisper

when i turn my back

what coils on their lips

and drues on red and cracks

and set loose the ideas they have wished up

the briming, over flowing alligation cup

the allegations theyve *idealed*

ideas and notions that should neber be revealed

that now linger just bellow the surface

and will come out in the end

of me and my dear friend

bumfucking in the ministerd office