Wanna know a secret?
God, I don’t even like you!
I’m no saint, no angel,
No manic pixie dream girl,
Not the one you think you love,
Talking is like taking a plummet 6 feet under,
Could you leave me be,
I wonder,
So, no offense?
You’re not that bad,
Could be a killer, could be corporate,
But you’re drowning my good and selling my soul,
So if I’m honest?
Man, I don’t  ******* like you ,
But I’m trapped on an island,
Just the two of us,
Bless my luck sweet hell,
(That was sarcasm dip ****)
And you have no name,
Notice that yet?
There’s a lot of you out there,
I want to forget,
Two sides of the same coin,
But I’m slicing it in half,
Because I don’t even like you.
And I’m a bad person maybe,
A hypocrate, a liar,
Could it be because of you?
Darling I’m on fire ,
I don’t want to hear your voice,
Touch me and you’re dead,
Don’t go messing with my head,
You’ll never get the honey verse,
Because for you I’ll save my worst,
And if these words don’t ring and chime,
I’ll say if for you one more time:
*God. I don’t. Even. Like. You.

When you die I will surely mourn,
I will miss the warmth of your embrace,
A blanket in the cold cruelty of the night,
I will miss how you'd tell me,
"Darling, it'll be better in the morning"
But it'll only be better after the mourning,
Oh Mother we're all going to die,  
That's certain,
And there will be just as much not to miss,
I will not miss your words sharp as blades,
Cutting away slowly at my insides,
And the way they stuck like severed tacks in my mind,
I will not miss your beliefs,
So isolated and different from mine,
Your good intentions and fouler methods,
I will not miss the strike of your hands,
Like thunder,
Or your temper,
Like a hurricane,
Nor the vigilant and wary eye of a self-proclaimed victim,
An agent in broad daylight, lurking, critical and hideous,
But most of all, I will not miss your condescension,
Oh Mother,
I know I told you I'd never bow,
But just this once,
At your tombstone,
I will be free of it,
The best of the worst and the worst of the best,
I will mourn,
I'll take a bow for you,
Good riddance, I'll miss you,
Adieu, I love you,
And Mama?
Godspeed Mama, Godspeed.

And she had opals braided in her hair
And amethysts for eyes,
She had an emerald tongue and lips of ruby,
But coal, was her heart.
The one who tries for a diamond will get nothing but cold,
For diamonds are beautiful emptiness.
And the one who tries for the flame,
Is wise enough to know that the coal,
Will ignite.

The only thing that interests me is the computer.

Clearly.

I let days and months and years pass me by while I stay behind the blue glow of my screen.

Obviously.

I don’t care about my future. I don’t care about my friends. Or my family. Or my career. Or the state our world is coming too.

Simply.

Oh no, ages ago the anxiety of this planet and it complications came crashing down to me and trampled over my well being.
It is why I stay isolated. It is why I do not care.

Undoubtedly.

My own crippling fear of responsibility holds me back, this is why I achieve a grade ratio of A to B and my chest is full pain.

Certainly.

The fact that the computer is an outlet for me to talk to friends of all sorts who care and understand, or work on bettering my writing or my art, is a horrible useless thing.
I learn absolutely nothing.

Of Course.

I am happy. For once I can feel calm, there are people out there and things out there that grasp my attention as to say “No, there are still great things in the world”  and remind me that the world is beautiful. This is stupid. The computer is a virtual object.

Undeniably.

And the burning pressure to finish in time, to get it done and succeed in the academics so that I can venture forth. The fact that sometimes I freeze up, thinking about the hard work and the disappointment I may have ahead of me, and how if I do nothing it only gets worse, and that I could be advancing like the rest of the world ,but instead I am held back? That I like to calm myself and rationalize my time by fitting things to my own rhythm? And it makes me so uncomfortable when people bring up my responsibilities? Blatantly prodding? That I am taken back to my cryogenic stage? And we have it hammered in our minds that it's our lack of control and better judgement. It is a weakness. But humans are not allowed to be weak. So the blame goes to the 3DS. The phone. The computer. The TV. The Wii. The technology.

Definitely.

If it’s so unreal, then how do you suggest I am affected by it? That I am its slave? I control nothing.  I contribute nothing.  It’s  that dastardly computer.

*Without a doubt.