almost made it the whole day without more of my intimate whining in shaky metaphor ignored the words in a petulant attempt to prove my superiority yet here we sit in a bare bones diatribe against the goddamned never ending hollow ache that is more a part of me while my mind is more apart from me leaving the entire animatronic house of cards losing building blocks with every aimless step farther from where i need to be from where i want to be wondering if the world thinks this is an affection a clever conceit to flavor what would normally be bland words into a subtle heat maybe they think it is ink that these words are written in not seeing the flesh waving as the blood dries to a rusted stain that flakes into the aether of a billion people that rhyme six words and brag over coffee they are poets when they have even less to say than i do unable to afford that fancy coffee incapable of leaving home because of the boulders on my chest understanding why sylvia stuck her head in the oven because one day one minute one second letting the watchdog stare out the window and she whispers seductively in the shadows of the room so i wanted to say fuck you to the only outlet of this river of misery by not listening

yet here we are