What are you trying to do? I ask myself this like a fucking dare. I mean, everything sounds the same. It’s like a dull humming I can’t get out of my head. I just wish I could care less.

When I feel everything, I feel it at once.

I feel it at once.

I feel it at once.

I’m going through the motions again, so fuck every verse that tried to skip a beat. Mash the stars in between my brain because maybe the world will understand me better. I’m glutenous for that type of thrill- the part where I hang onto everyone like a thread while they beg for me to never let go. And when that feeling of needing each other goes away, I panic like a fucking fear left to come undone in-front of everyone. It’s harder than you think and I never choose myself. How could I?

I built houses in my mind and the neighborhood is on fire. I’m reaching for something in outer space and when the stars and a planet collide my mind shatters over and over and over again. So I’m becoming comfortably numb with not knowing or seeing or being.

I fill in the what if’s with colors that match the hues I see when I close my eyes. It’s laced in some sort of eerie red. The color that flashes before you faint. I tell myself to breathe through it and I’m tired of lying.

Ask myself the same things, until I muster up on answer.

Punch hard through a broken mirror.