I can't.
Co ordinate the.
Chaos anymore.

And, I feel like screaming.

I'm real.

Until my vocal chords break.
Bleeding out some cry.
To the heavens.

Existence is the torture.
Of banal nothing.
Coalescing into an.
Instant regret.
From an impulsive.
Rush.

But I've learned.
Each dramatic outburst.
Was a call for help.
A communication.
So I learned how to act.
Normal.
Keep it to.
Myself.

When.
In my mind.

Well,
I can't keep track now,
Can I.