Yo, I don't feel okay
is that okay with you?
I'll back off, *******, do what I have to do
to make sure this sleepy Sunday goes swell for you.
But your actions are like rug burns,
not hurting for long--but still hurting

  I?
  I twisted your arm?
  You're not mad about that!
  Are you?
  You are?
  Give me your skin so I can fold it!
  Feeling your wrinkles under my calloused hands,
  it won't hurt, I swear!
  A lesson for you is what I bear.

I let this happen for one hundred years
until my pale flesh turned purple,
and my eyes blackened into squares as I saw Nyarlathotep slip out of your three tongues.
You begged for an apology I couldn't muster,
and in turn chafed your own foolish forgiveness in place of mine.

I paint over
the true colors
that they show me.
But they blend
and I no longer know
what color it is.
It's a mix
and that is how
mixed signals are created.
They are not made by them.
They are made by you.

Please don't let go
What were my hands made for if they're not holding yours?

I hate when people use the psalm to say,
“our bodies are wonderfully made,”
but they don't teach us that our minds
are made wonderfully as well

I am fearfully made but I am fearful
for I have been taught through this teaching
that my body was made more wonderfully than my mind

Sometimes our lives are made up of the same stories with the same beginnings and the same endings and things happen the same way almost every time.