like somebody took it upon themselves to throw words at a wall and turned what stuck into doo-*** scatting nonsense which was then assembled gracelessly into a scathing neologism something that scrambles into some semblance of an inner monologue and circles my tongue like treacle or a lab rat's ****
and if this is the scattered fantasy that my brain cells have scraped together from that primordial soup then i don't think i want to wake up and see the aftermath of what feels like an eternal loop
but it's so scary to live life like a browning dulux colour swatch businessperson's rolex watch vignettes of vague consciousness vitally percieved through a time machine of moments and a swelling kind of grief grieved for the moments inbetween that are lost and i'm pristine in an ocean of dark marine wondering where in my head my emotions and i have been
i can't ******* remember what i had for breakfast but i can recall that i feel like i've come last in some kind of riddle where the clues are in a language i don't speak but could read with practice and anguish and the rhyming becoming more linear and fluent but i wish i could tell you what i said's congruent to this fairytale drowsing that makes me feel alone and i think therefore i'm in a state to atone
i can't wake up i'm going to throw up similarly i think that i don't want to show up tomorrow i'll see you when i'm better or better yet never but it won't last forever right?