panic suit
imagination
to fill in the gaps.
maybe, i will say this with anger. maybe, i am still. in the spaces between my muscles, there is thrashing. if i could locate where from or why the tides are coming, i'd be eased. dilemma of myself: senses do not explain the strangeness of me. i know i make people uncomfortable. in quips, conversations do not last long. as they begin, people are looking for a way out. acting school should have paid off here. unfortunately i end up fake.
briefly, i know who i am. any lasso i flick disappears from my hands. i have to go - i have to go.
is terror infectious or am i prone to it? i sit in the tracks, waiting. i see the train coming, waiting. all motion indicates the train will hit me in less than three minutes. i'm now on the fifth year, waiting, seeing the train perpetually come. how are my predictions wrong? this makes my mind just to the next. i outrun my commendations; they are not believable.
gestation is long, and in the waiting i convince myself to calculate my worth in that very instance. on paper, there is little. in my mind, i have to go. at the summation of missed friends, unresolved relationships, unrequited kisses, i wonder about the situation. i wonder if it is my fault. evidence shows an easy conclusion - something deeply inherent to me keeps me distant.
i want to share so much. "you have a voice" what the fuck does that mean? qualifying a mind is quite the provocation. especially when charisma is absent. "mimic their body language... it puts them at ease" two hours later and i know your philosophies, home, sports, what you like to do after work. what applies for me in all of the above? narcissism..... role fulfillment.... psychoanalysis has no vernacular applicability.
i dreamt of a wood house, colours and texts at the fingertips. i remember that much, the rest i forgot. ah hey, status pursuit dubs me with amnesia. not so bad though... until i feel that void, where dead thoughts echo.. "you let me go." grief has an expiry date/how long does it take to get a damn tea?!
schzoid - talk to yourself. continue to the next level of your diagnosis, there's no one here.
---------------------------
people's sentiments are honest. their ability to carry them out are not.
to fill in the gaps.
maybe, i will say this with anger. maybe, i am still. in the spaces between my muscles, there is thrashing. if i could locate where from or why the tides are coming, i'd be eased. dilemma of myself: senses do not explain the strangeness of me. i know i make people uncomfortable. in quips, conversations do not last long. as they begin, people are looking for a way out. acting school should have paid off here. unfortunately i end up fake.
briefly, i know who i am. any lasso i flick disappears from my hands. i have to go - i have to go.
is terror infectious or am i prone to it? i sit in the tracks, waiting. i see the train coming, waiting. all motion indicates the train will hit me in less than three minutes. i'm now on the fifth year, waiting, seeing the train perpetually come. how are my predictions wrong? this makes my mind just to the next. i outrun my commendations; they are not believable.
gestation is long, and in the waiting i convince myself to calculate my worth in that very instance. on paper, there is little. in my mind, i have to go. at the summation of missed friends, unresolved relationships, unrequited kisses, i wonder about the situation. i wonder if it is my fault. evidence shows an easy conclusion - something deeply inherent to me keeps me distant.
i want to share so much. "you have a voice" what the fuck does that mean? qualifying a mind is quite the provocation. especially when charisma is absent. "mimic their body language... it puts them at ease" two hours later and i know your philosophies, home, sports, what you like to do after work. what applies for me in all of the above? narcissism..... role fulfillment.... psychoanalysis has no vernacular applicability.
i dreamt of a wood house, colours and texts at the fingertips. i remember that much, the rest i forgot. ah hey, status pursuit dubs me with amnesia. not so bad though... until i feel that void, where dead thoughts echo.. "you let me go." grief has an expiry date/how long does it take to get a damn tea?!
schzoid - talk to yourself. continue to the next level of your diagnosis, there's no one here.
---------------------------
people's sentiments are honest. their ability to carry them out are not.