(no subject)
Everything is abstract. Blurred and distorted versions of reality. I can't relate to anyone, everything is a mess.
I am Mister Glass-Half-Empty.
Angst ridden and teen aged, I am the picture perfect example of suburbanite dysfunction. I stand transfixed, staring into the cavalcade of on coming sports utility vehicles and button down blouses.
Everything is terrifying, leaving me helpless and doe eyed. Waiting for my entire world to crumble.
Words flow from a seemingly endless spew of ink and tears, saying everything and nothing simultaneously. I am expressionless, vacant. I am everything manufactured junk bands sing about.
I am being poked and prodded from every angle. "Jagged rocks, poking me with their jags."
I am a test subject. The target of vicious alien probing.
Hang in there kid, the best is yet to come.
I'm so much older than I can take...
I am Mister Glass-Half-Empty.
Angst ridden and teen aged, I am the picture perfect example of suburbanite dysfunction. I stand transfixed, staring into the cavalcade of on coming sports utility vehicles and button down blouses.
Everything is terrifying, leaving me helpless and doe eyed. Waiting for my entire world to crumble.
Words flow from a seemingly endless spew of ink and tears, saying everything and nothing simultaneously. I am expressionless, vacant. I am everything manufactured junk bands sing about.
I am being poked and prodded from every angle. "Jagged rocks, poking me with their jags."
I am a test subject. The target of vicious alien probing.
Hang in there kid, the best is yet to come.
I'm so much older than I can take...