Maybe it's the faulty wiring of my circuits,
I don't seem to understand those around me,
I tell them don't trust me,
They say they love me,
But I will glitch, synapse misfire,
I'll become a villain in my program,
With no rhyme or reason,
I'll fail miserably to the hero,
That is my destiny,
But at least I'll know my fate,
Better than these faulty wires,
A maze of circuits that never know where to connect,
Is this what it's like to be human?..

Sometimes I peek into Etheria,
Because I ponder where my soul lives,
Casually gliding in the ethereal area,
Trembling cascading chaotic abyss,
Casual sensations indulging in the journey sought.

It's overwhelming, what the power of thought can do;
Place you in realities broad and new,
A contented choke up on surprises, unexpected,
Setting a foundation for limitation is rejected.

What I found in the realm of wonder, Etheria,
From the glimpse, the journey, into an endless inside,
A song, sung so deeply and profoundly,
That only when I touched my face from hysteria,
Had I discovered my very soul, and from that, I cried.

Breaking news:  girl thinks she has cotard delusion

Journalist:  A walking corpse was spotted at Avenue 12


the girl:  help me feel. teach me how to feel. i want to feel.

Sometimes I can't help but smile when you come by.

Nonchalantly moving throughout your routine riddled day.

I ponder if I exist in your world; if I'm an important part of your story...
or just another piece in your background.

Who am i to you?

Who will I be, mystery man...?


                                            Often times I glance over, wondering if you'll ever desire to converse with me.

                                           Sometimes I lose myself in the forbidden realm of fantasy.

                                                  I don't want to wander into misfortune.

                                                    ­                        I don't want to like you...
but with every glance over, i find it harder to look away.

                                                       There are little longing lost thoughts  where i know my fear is wiser.

                                               I'll never be able to tell you these things... and you'll never know how compelling you are to me; a stranger in your world;

                                     Inviting you into mine.

I write a poem
It made me thinking of you
The poem i write just end
And this feeling still thinking of you

Sometimes suddenly, I feel dejected.
Ejected from my previous emotion and rejected by any positive concoction.
Somehow, abruptly, I feel embedded in the thickest soot of sadness, heavy ashes of gloom suffocating my heart and all of its assets.

Sometimes I get bitten by a glumbug, and a blue sky could turn gray, I could be known to be the talker, but have nothing to say. My mind doesn't mind being a bully and having it's way...as if my soul began to rapidly decay.

I'm glumbugged like spontaneously combusted, explosively sickened by this destructive construction. Depravity shaking and waving in motion, corrosive to my life and the future that's open.

Potent, its bite, the glumbug. Random, sudden, terrifying. Like the chilly wind that death carries, or a gut's intuition; like a sign of misfortune. What an awe-inducing contraption.