how can it be that i'm the source of my own undoing i'm a ball of yarn I didn't kick myself down a flight of stairs I didn't knit myself into a scarf I didn't sew myself to connect patches of a quilt to cover up my awkward sadness I didn't string beads on my body to make a bracelet I didn't use myself to make abstract mixed media artwork to display in an abstract gallery for abstract hollow artsy people to scrutinize and search for underlying meaning my existence isn't some ******* spectacle my existence isn't some
******* coincidence my means will justify my end