I can't really talk to you right now.
I know you want to
But it's seriously not a good idea.

If I talk to you right now
I won't be able to hold in my resentment.
I will put you on the spot
Ask you cruel question about
Why won't you get a job
Why won't you get back in school
Why won't you move out of your parents house
And that interaction would have only a horrible outcome.

You claim to be an adult
An all-grown-up man
But I feel like I'm dating a child sometimes.
This is unacceptable.

[the thing is, I'll never break up with you.
i tried once, remember?
i can't hurt you like that again.
i just can't.]

So you have to get with the program
Before we have to have a confrontation.

I could fly away.
If I didn't have him
I could hop a plane
Going anywhere.
I have the means
And I have the attitude
The only thing holding me back
Is him.

(The only thing holding me here
In this plane of existence
Is him.)

(I should thank him.)

Dissatisfaction boils up in my gut.
Soon it will turn to anger
Which will turn to rage...
I wonder who I'll take it out on.

Surely it will be the wrong one.

But it's the fault of many
Not just one!
Though honestly it is just the fault of one
This one
Me.

I feel TRAPPED
By myself.
A hostage in a cave of my own making.
The only way to escape
Is to make a hostile exit!
But if I shoot the guard,
I will be dead too.
So really there's no point.

Maybe they'll let me out for exercise sometime.
This is prison, isn't it?

I don't understand people
Who don't value
INDEPENDENCE
As the highest good.
It is what I crave
It is what I work for
Constantly.

It's unfortunate that the man I will spend my life with
Doesn't seem to care for it at all.

My mind  feels like gravy
Slow-moving and liquid
With chunks of solid thought.
My body has melted
What was once a solid bar
Is now a pool of liquid.
My eyes sting
As if they are infested with jalapeño seeds.

I am a smörgåsbord.

Water bubbling merrily!
Pots filled with vegetables
All bright colors and anticipation
Waiting for the delicious nutrition soon to come.
Poppopbubblebubble!
I smell barbecue chicken in the oven too.

When all your sense know it's there
You know it's dinner time.

You wrote this
It says.
Written as a whisper.
You wrote this
It tells me.
It serves a reminder.
You wrote this. You did this. This is a product
Of your mind.
This is all yours.*

It is a sign to remind me
To be proud
To show myself respect
To be in awe
Of what can happen
When you let your insides out.