impulses and intrusion

impulses and intrusion 

decadence and betrayal

this is the year i quiet the noise

or succumb to the storm, folding in on myself.

scrambling, trembling, tripping, screeching

clawing, ripping, gripping, slipping

flip flopping and filtering every ounce of yourself 

through the sieve of acceptable. 

public humiliation 

you stand out when you stand up

i'm tired and my bones weary 

i'm young and spritely so there’s no excuse really 

but no cowboy on their 100th rodeo could lasso my brain 

no commercial fishing net capable of wiping out the population of fish in the sea could catch me enough dopamine to satisfy my cravings 

and if i gave up where would i go?

i would have to leave my body so as not to face the reality.

i cannot leave therefore i cannot give up.

i am bound to these sinews; i'm sewn into the fibers, melted into the flesh. i am quite claustrophobic but i decorate well. 

my taste is not for everyone but i prefer it that way. the day i agree with the masses is the day i check myself in.

how does one determine they’re lonesome? surely a bounty of others exist just outside your enclosure? the void may not be human shaped. perhaps it is something else entirely. a vacuum. 

if i only i knew how those worked. 

empty night.