the perks of being a wallflower, or disadvantage in case. mr observant, half perfectionist, getting a taste of his own medicinal value, describe me to myself in a vacuum. tell me how many times i scratch my chin, touch my ribcage, leave you feeling incomplete.
when you feel me getting nervous around you, so i can cross my arms defensively. straighten up my posture and..
and tell you you’re wrong. or break down and cry.
an impressionist, copies people to the point where its comedic. I wouldn’t say I’m an impressionist.
it’s not funny
deflecting points of interest because im upset with how my intelligence handles situations. and ive rattled enough cages to know, the focus of peoples pain comes from the same place that mine does.
conflict of interest. consciously thinking how to forget
i heard you like puzzles. when my eyes water my vision breaks apart like a kaleidoscope.
do or die. get close to me. don’t whisper, or the tripmines will hear you.
kaleidoscope. i’m so fascinated with it. the way it, breaks apart your vision, and makes you see different things. sort of the way
i’m a witness to my memoir. self-aware, debonair deathstar. get away. n bomb. i feel your pain. embark on this journey to my self-sustained benchmark.
gaze at you from a vantage point, you barely knew i had an angle to do so
saxophone tenor, ballad with loopholes, italian caruso.
some call it voyeuristic, its opportunity presenting itself
shy guy chronicle meets the walking contradiction for help
don’t decimate my only distinction. i barely hold myself together
captain to starboard, i want more than affection.
sometimes the grip of your neck gives me..cant describe it
They’re hardly going to miss you, don’t look back to Gomorrah
there’s a karmic relationship between, I and the plethora
ironic leaf petal spinning like a helicopter, whistling whirlwind, warping through the breeze. falls onto my skin, wafting through the fabric. blasting through my membranes. i need to stop over thinking every situation, sometimes a leaf falling is just a leaf falling. romanticizing everything that crosses my path. i think it’s because i want to believe that my life is something more than the background bystander in someones dream. i think its because i want to feel more than what i feel at any given moment. i think its because when i cry, i feel like my tears carry entire poems in them, and when they fall off my cheek that splash entire novels on innocent civilians. my brain reminds me of a dreidel that gets spun and keeps going. forever. that song stuck in your head, bleeding through a padded room.
its redundancy is suffocating. sometimes, ill fall asleep for what seems years and i barely recognize myself in the mirror. sometimes, i get jealous of animals that can cocoon themselves for what seems like a lifetime, i know it seems morbid, but i can’t help to think that maybe cryogeny is waiting for me somewhere. maybe im a butterfly yet to spread its wings. he hasn’t fully reached who he wants to be
i use the word kaleidoscope a lot.
getting lost in the labyrinth. i feel as if, i can find the ending to the pattern. that somewhere between the rose-colored glasses, there’s a door with an infinite keycode that i know the password too, and when i open it…
im not lost
theres somebody waiting