I am wasting away. I am angry.
I am scarred. I have instabilities.
and this deformation I succumbed
into reflects how the world treated me.
the other day I was being idealistic but
tonight I address all my worries to
how I was brought up. . . God! It
feels so ******* good to put the
features you imbued upon my hide
in use! I got half, if not, close to a quarter
over the sum of it all. This me writing
is the spill of what you pour on me;
an excess of the limit of what I can process.
Like a swaying drunk on the pavement,
soon I'll be waiting for the audience's
middle-fingers directed to me and I'll be
fine with it like a madman with nothing to
lose.

Well, that's the last hit I could take
for the day. .