It’s days like these that having me wanting to scream “fuck the world, and every benign creature that resides within it”
Every molecule of wanting to punch, fist first, deep into the psyche of existence and tell it to wake the fuck up.
A slap won’t do nothing. It’s too far gone.
Given in and greeting every day with a forced and strained smile.
Those tears of yesterday start to fall.
A release that isn’t quite fulfilling.
But to go further would feel wicked, and my integrity holds me back.
A fight of furious bickering begins in my brain, that grey matter and white matter doing what it does best, but I wonder why and it makes it all matters less.
It builds and twists and hurts, and I just want it to fucking rest.
When the game is tight, and every ripple of flesh is taut, never at ease, shoulder blades stick out, protruding tense.
Its days like these that wear away enamel,
a constant grinding,
where a snide comment spits venomously of tongue.
And it wasn’t even meant.
Days like these that know nothing but wisdom that is hidden,
Rainy weather that rants inconsistently,
Solemn and forlorn,
And the wall feels soft against knuckles edge.