fragmented confessions

my fragmented self is put together wrong, and i can never be fixed. and sometimes i like being broken, my jagged edges hidden beneath layers of personality, smoothed out by black water. the locks on my doors work, and my glass walls show me everything. i miss snow. pure white snow that keeps refilling the forgotten footsteps of lost people. when i walk outside, i can feel large crystals with sharp edges that fly down from the heavens with the wrath of hell. they slash my face with the harshness of angry gods. there is always the stench of summer...and i shrink at its intoxicating odor; liquify at its presence. we create societies and build civilizations, only to tear them down, find their flaws and repeat the same mistakes. we use plastic surgury to alter who we were born to be. we mask our true selves under thick layers of make-up, only to go home to be lonely people. if you don't have a laugh track you're a nobody...the woman of tomorrow struggles still and denies her past, reconstructs her present and sells her future...poison the heart against the mind and don't forget to lather...