through streets like open sores
I'm here.
hissing chatter
Invading my skull,
creeps down my spine.
pressure building.
it's all in your head.
You are the only one here,
feeling like this.
I'm outside, standing in the street —
Sun on tired eyes.
worms pushing
under my skin.
9am.
the doors are open.
Your appointment,
try not to cry.
But they don't understand,
you look human.
"Don't you want to work?"
"What do you enjoy doing?"
no. good.
let me bite     my ****** misery
and pour it
                 down  
      your throat.