Fat man
sit on your throne
and enlighten me with my flaws.
Grab me by the ankles,
shake,
and watch my ego pour out from my pores.
Tape my mouth closed
and whisper your syrupy words
through my ears.
I won't struggle,
you humor me.
You think you know me?
You think you can diagnose the devil?
Idiot fat man.
Just sit on your throne.
Let me do the talking.

If I witnessed a trillion shooting stars,
each wish would be the same.
Make me
normal.
~
Most times I am bitter,
annoyed,
and slightly puzzled,
by the world's sensitivity.
But then sometimes a rush of every feeling ever once felt by anyone comes rushing in, around, up, down, here, there,
everywhere
and I get the wind knocked out of me from its force
and I can't breathe from the shock of it scouring my circulatory system
and I can't compute
euphoria,
fury,
despair,
as they all comes at once like bullets through my brain.
I'm left breathless, trembling, dying, with myriad thoughts but only one question.
Is it better to feel everything or nothing at all?