At least under influence
The strained sky doesn’t rain
As much anymore, plaid shirts
Sticking to the empty walls
Sundry fabrics staining the
Disgustingly beige paint
And hands brought up
As if to faint? The struggle

To rip the shirts off the walls
And make the sundry fabrics
Less sundry; the struggle,
To watch the sun go down
And bring the sky with it -
It overcomes me, it fulfills me,

It gives me a purpose
That fits like a square block
In the absence of any holes
Busies my hands with new blood
The next ****** victim being my
Unrelinquished boredom
And the next pain I will relish in:
My endless hyper fixations.