It's never good to love oneself.
Especially your art.
To listen to compliments is like seeking out nourishment from cotton candy.
I am never satisfied with art, as neither am I complete in the presence of another equally damaged as myself.
There is supposedly good in everyone well, that said, know damn well the rest is made up of pure shit and self-loathing.
Time has taught me to hate society.
From liars to ladder climbers, I have little to no use.
It's all a con, and I simply refuse to play the game.
The poison consumes me slowly as the earth awaits my collapse.
Tomorrow is another day.
Unfortunately.
JPR, is a Southern Gothic writer his work has been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Fixator Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Disturb The Universe, Piker Press, Punk Noir, The Dope Fiend Daily, Cold Rambler and A Thin Slice Of Anxiety.
His work is dark and always unfiltered.
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