Sometimes, i am alone, and i look in the mirror and i am not sure if i am there.
I feel my body, but it's as if it is not mine.
This is not me.
This is not my life, and i do not know what i am doing.
And then i let myself go.
I am around people, and now i am free.
I am stupid and bitter and i say things that i shouldn't say, but i do it anyways because i am stupid and bitter.
And then i wonder why people like me, because i sure as **** know i don't.

That makes so much sense, it makes dollars.

Seriously.

Swine fly can *******.

I'm going to Mars sometime soon. You can deal with your own problems then. I hope you're still alive when i return.

It's cold in here.
It's cold in here and my motivation is broken.
It's in the corner, down in a heap on my **** carpeting.

I should vacuum but i'm too brain dead to care about the state of my floor.
I'd rather lay here, in a heap on my bathroom floor,
Listening to gypsy punk and learning about burrow owls.

Later, my creativity is flowing.
I spit sentences onto sketchy pages
Cover them with subconsciously related pictures.
I rediscover drawing charcoal
And smear a dusky porch view out.

Glass boxes whir and ripple around me.
I fantasize about what it would feel like
To have my lungs flap open and sweep with water.

Sometimes I wonder if i'm dying.

I think of you and i am OCD about the spots on the floor.
I must step center on them in order to be content with myself as a person.
Must you yell every thought that jumps into your brain?
Must you share any part of your life with me?
Gas money, Harris Teeter,  birth control.
You make me doubt humanity.

I don't know your name, but i don't feel guilty at all.
I smile anyways, and remember Legos.
I'm certain you're surprised, as if i should know you.
As if you're cool enough to be known.
You likely know me.
My reputation is whispered and faulty at best
But i don't mind that i **** acidic boys
And hardly care if you know.
I'm not trying to impress anyone.