Cataclysmically careening down a chasm of chaos I seperate myself from myself I am just a part of the everything and spiralling ever further into the void Devoid of the hubris and ideals of the individual We are now as we are The great Is. Tiny terrifying tarantulas treck through my trachea bring to me the woe and confusion of thought my voice creaks and from within a gurgle of shame comes an uproarious feeling screaming louder and louder FIGHT However
I sit in my apartment, surrounded by a display of unadulterated unease the carpet is littered with broken promises to myself and the corpses of my past lives shambling through the dark and finding the bathroom I find the light I turn it on and inside the mirror is the face of my mother, speaking in tongues and drinking maple syrup while Mrs. Butterworth moans like a **** star A fillibuster of inconceivable toxic waste spews from my mouth as I make excuses I shave my face and head out the door I have a job to do after all and this world needs me Me the only me that has ever been or ever will be and the only thing that matters a tangled mess of ligaments and flesh strewn together like a marionette guided by strings called neurons my brain playing make-believe with false pretense keeping secrets and shining lights on the monsters underneath my bed
I cry because I like to remember I can that I am able to feel the things I read about in books and see on tv but when faced with tragedy I just shut down and I realize I'm alone and that brings me happiness.
This is garbage I improvised as I typed just so I could have a poem up