lowerclass lowercase

i feel hollow
a twisted ballon
animalistic yet
absurdly ill defined
my words reverberate
from within this
rubbery sausage
casing cranked and
spun and knotted
and forgotten as
i slowly deflate

nothing about me
down to my very cells
is the same man
that lived in illinois
no longer the same
abandoned little child
or the one huddled
in a ball of sorrows
waiting for someone
to make it all better

i am a walking graveyard
where their ghosts
wail depressively all
throughout the nights
spent clutching a pillow
and hoping thoughts of
her will ease my mind
just enough to pass out

a hollowly twisted
balloon parody
an absolute nothing
going positively nowhere
scribbling in pouty
lowerclass lowercase
not taken seriously by
a two dimensional world
of repeating images
with an aching head
half asleep yet unable
to untie the knot
and fly across the room
in an overdramatic
exclamation of these
insidious insecurities


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