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kenny Mar 2019
Sensory overload beyond the household
of management manipulations
and electromagnetic chemistry
clipped the soul
tethered from the body

Wandering ghosts
starving 9-5 consumption
in cubicles, the constraints of creativity
until it draws all that energy
away from the body electric
numb and out of touch

This what the machine wants from us
for the metaphors they never got in a logical world
where they did away from the imagination

Paint it as you see it
not as you feel it
until the truth vanished completely
Absorbed in a high anxiety setting
perpetuating paranoia to consume the minds eye
and we all just wanna
we just can’t

Without the worry
or the threat of survival
and the capitol nuisance
Blood is running money
Blood is running money
It’s so so tragically funny
I cut myself open center stage
****** up but it be like that
All the time
It seems I’m waiting for the prime
That evades me before it’s too late
I wrote this  to evade a panic attack at work. I was so overwhelmed the only thing I could do is break away and write
Micah Alex Oct 2017
I haven't written at length for a long time now and my maelstorms are worse. I haven't written for my heart and the protest inside has reached a crescendo of violence. The dam is at its limit and I am the explosion waiting inside. My conductor has quit and the orchestra has lost its sanity, timbral destruction and cymbal apocalypse. I watch helplessly the drowning flutist and the bleeding pianist. Whale song rings in my ear all the time, and I am tired of this dismembering dissonance. My nostrils flare in the polluted river and the acid water has reached my lungs. They burn with the intensity of jealous stars and pull me in like black holes. Sometimes the heat is too much and the cold offers nightmarish dreams of death. So I bear the burden of two jackets soaked in ice water. My teeth, eyes and nails feel like they might fall into my food and I won't have the energy to even care for self-cannibalism. The church has fallen on our heads and my life is frothing at the mouth. The madness is finally settling in, violently setting up camp in my soul. My veins pulse rhythmically like the drums in a System of a Down song.

Father why have you forsaken me?

In your eyes forsaken me.

In your thoughts forsaken me.


— The End —