It's this throbbing wave of uncontrollable temper inside my chest that has a life of its own. I like to self-medicate it to let it cool down, but seeing that the only way for it to die out faster is to have it go up and beat quicker with the tempo of my body, precious little spoiled princess me drinks it down a little deeper, a little slower, and a lot less nimbly. I see suffering and my heart pops out like the guy's face from the mask, exposed to the toxicity of what an unclean city can do. The shame of betrayal, the lead pipes we breathe in carry on our backs and install on a daily basis, it all adds up. The behaviors we blame, and time only ticks by to the drum of our unhappiness. What do we really want? Escape? Privacy? To be held by someone in particular? Why do we create these feelings just to exhaust ourselves even more? I feel like my presence is made of lead. My body radiates a furnace for the refrigerator. My face is only made for early morning philosophy. My hands are only there to show that the only thing I'm best at is sleep. Why do I need you?
Submitted October 14, 2016 at 10:18AM by Criesnotheard http://ift.tt/2dokGjm offmychest
No comments:
Post a Comment