I am a natural being,
I have a heart, and a brain
I am full of essence and breath,
I have a mind that emits itself for others to inhale.

But why does my existence bother you?
Do I not fit into your assigned categories?
Do I not clear all the ticks in your brainless mental box?

I appear too fragmented for your approval,
A broken disc glowing in its spectrum,
But the more I glow,
The more I am alive.

So I'm not sorry if your fragile, small head aches when I'm near,
I suggest you ask why it's so delicate,
Before you blame your afflictions on me.

I needed air,
A reminder of how small I was,
So I climbed to the highest point I could,
Watched the sky's spectrum travel around me,
Witnessed a bright moon stare at me through pink blurs,
Like a caring mother watching over her children,
And felt cold air soothe my broken head,
Until all the dead nightmares emptied my mind.

creepy little crawlers,
they have the audacity to push their slimy feelers on me,
i can already smell the stench from miles away,
their vile oil infested goo can stay away from my skin,

if only you were a creepy little crawler,
then I could squeeze your insides out,
mash your pathetic body into pulp,
but my chain is still too tight for me to run,
so I'll let you ooze yourself onto me.

Nobody feels the same way,
Although we all feel sore,
With our unique cuts and bruises,
Scratching the cold surface, begging for an end.

Everyone's head is throbbing,
Overwhelmed by too little or too much,
Sailing a broken boat in their own troubled waters,
Searching for a pill customised to their inflictions.

Hands are already emerging from the darkness,
I can see mysterious new silhouettes grasping their next target,
Their touch on my skin is inevitable,
All I can do is embrace it.

Some will be cold and painful,
Nothing but sore, knotted stomachs,
A bandaged brain and fatigued mind,
All I can do is embrace it.

Some will be soft and warm,
Easing the aches and sores from the vicious claw marks yet to appear,
A temporary beacon of light that will guide me along a broken path,
All I can do is embrace it.

after a few mouthfuls,
masks are grown from harsh liquids,
they soften our muscles,
ease our aches,
lead us to believe that strangers are soul mates,
lets dance,
while we all embrace our artificially composed friends.

I like kites and expensive flights
They all have nice sights

I'm chained to this system,
To these rules and regulations,
A constant spiral of the same sights,
Forced artificial happiness,
Recycled reinvented pleasures.

These comforts can only numb the aches,
Until dark skies and cold weather,
Expose my wounds to the wind.

Lack of materials, lack of all,
Keep me trapped in dizzy frustrations,
Fantasising new sensations and places,
Knowing the happy, coloured blurs will sharpen their lens,
And reveal their familiar, colourless forms.

Sitting on my fixed space of land,
Still rooting for the next month to win me over,
For the next week to triumph against the last,
I tug at my tired chains,
Hoping to God there's that there more than this.

give me something you know I'll break,
tempt me with a toxic toy I'll tell myself to play with,
until it's sides are broken and bruised,
and you'll find me on the highest shelf,
dented, a disaster crying for a new devil to destroy me.

Squinting eyes in the pale sunlight
Does not give me the freedom to know that I'm warm

Loud noises and bitter drinks
Make me numb but not happy

Because knowing that hole is still there,
That void that I cannot bare,
Is waiting to be full of something I'm afraid others cannot digest.