even my responsibilities feel a bit purposeless
an extra buck
                                         for what?
to stack on the numbers in my account
          for some sort of muffled safety
a tactic pressed from another time
                                            that doesn't matter to me anymore

i just want to lift my skull from the temples and
            remove the vessel
                                             tortuous and fruitful
   in constant bloom
                   spreading grotesque petals into every avenue
           of this festering cortex

i want to lift my spine from my shoulders
           and fill the space with every ache
                                                 for change

so none of me remains.