Monday morning drag across the 7:25 bell
All inside my head my mom screams worthlessness, failure, disappointment
So, I pick up my Nokia prepaid phone I've dubbed O > A because the letters N, I and half of K fell off from collisons from my clumsy hands.
I break past my fibro collecting in my fingers to send out a text to my best friends,
Of how I'm not going to make it to lunch and that life becomes such a depression.
Depress, the weight of the world and the lack of compassionate caresses detract the wave of hollow drowned eyes oh my eyes oh my eyes droop into flimsy filmy negatives deteriorating beneath firey distractions
Do I melt or do I die will I cry or shall I survive?
Am I in a morgue because I feel so alive?
I fail to thrive in the jive of the sinister cries of the administration preaching a safari for help, then letting the lions maul me while I think they're behind the wall.
We're on the hunt and I've caught myself addressing emotions in second person blaming you for all my troubles and diversions and how the appeal of bourbon comes galloping with barbed regret.
The brain I've got isn't just breaking but burning and the swill of ancient tides learning that I've never been turning but actually soaring past the limit of infinity and their concept of mathematical seniority.
Maybe it's a hunch that the life that we've got means nothing or something or what will meaning wane or wax? All the beautiful opposites attract but I still feel repulsed by my psychopaths.
Narcissus' mirror exploded its' shards into how to be a caring friend 2k14.
How can you care when so enchanted by the mirror that you refuse to get nearer to the objects that may appear closer than they really are?
Do you slow down and apply caution when speeding birds crack your windshield?
Free fall of confidence of sobriety of meaninglessness and I could never figure out what it meant to be so full of it under I started debating.
Sources and one lined quotes claiming FACTS ARE THE ANSWER and really a number doesn't do us diligence.
I'm all for the meetings at town hall with pickets and passion rather than misguided patriotism and half-assed brittle opinions.
The days of the McDonalds brown paper bag fries are gone, and with it the wisdom of decades gone wrong.