Unresponsive
Silence aching in the pit of my stomach boiling the blood beneath my skin
Raging chaos
Weeping solitude until I fall asleep awaiting an explanation
Shaken glory
Magnifies in the heat of some miscommunication, lack of trust slithering out within each insult
Always trying to defy the laws of gravity
Unable to admit there are no such thing as superheros, magic wands, or even luck
I am bulimic to love and lust and all things good
Allergic to kindness and appreciating and all things right
I always get left in the middle, asking myself
What the hell is wrong with me