Chapter Text
Do not wail for the things you desire
Yet I should use this more than you truly need
Time which acts with no reason or rationality
yet I can't tell whether you are stuck in the future or the past
Or perhaps I interpret it that way because of my own misplacement
I do not know who to direct my emotions of confusion and hurt
With fits where I want the peel off my own flesh until there is nothing to look at anymore.
Throw a tantrum in the middle of the produce aisle, with middle aged women sneering, “What a foul girl…”
I know it's childish to think of things in such an interpreted way,
But why not?
My creativity must be squeezed from my brain before it goes sour.
Like the milk my brain drips with.
You may leave before you see it drip from my nostrils in my old age
With cloudy eyes and mildew taking the place of my organs
For I can already smell the tang ready to drip, drip down seeping slowly into the earth.
But my impatience feeds a guilt in my chest
An everlasting guilt that will never be satisfied
Roaring and seeping up coals from which to feast.
But my impatience uses reason while the guilt is purely paranoia
A cocktail that is composed of serotonin, oxytocin, and adrenaline.
They fight and fight but leave their weeping blood stains on the litchens
For it makes me even more upset, the fact that I do not know who has caused this drift
A drift of everything I stand for. How I view myself
It has made me confident in ways, but also made me paranoid for every action I took.
Is it you or I? Someone completely different…
Maybe it's both of us..
I hate that I think this way.
A way that's so adult
But inherently so childish, a way that makes me want to crawl into a different brain.
A way of thinking I regret, yet couldn't be changed..