self-hatred

is there no end to the self hatred, the self deprecation?
by the time i got to school this morning, i had already discounted every admirable quality i own
i had already begun to hate myself
the hate itself incites more hatred
damn myself for not liking myself more!

i am living in a golf-score economy
and according to my waist band, i have no currency to barter with
another reason to despise myself
thanks to living in a world of mirrors
that reflect every detail (except the ones that matter)
i can be reminded of that hourly

these rules are cutthroat
these standards are lethal

by the time i write this poem
i will have thought of other reasons to loathe Me
no discipline
no perseverance
no beauty
and cant write her way out of a paper bag.

even my self-hatred refuses to be a part of me out of disgust
and in an act of portentous independence, disembodies itself so that it can be critical from afar and
speak in third person.

look at how her clothes dont fit!
look at how one eye is wider than the other when she smiles!
look at how many chins emerge when she looks at her shoes!
she thinks she's a writer, but she cant finish a single thing she starts!

these rules are cutthroat
these standards are lethal
truly lethal