Messes I Didn't Make

My brain is a balloon ready to be pricked
Stuffed with little beetles and tick tick ticks
That eat through people's skin
I'm full of air and chemicals and I'm floating
All the time I'm floating
Way, way up above the atmosphere
I can't feel anything
Except everyone else's blood
For once, or twice
Or every waking moment if I had any kind of way
It's like my wrath is so dense it's not real, is it?
And my lust is so untamed
I can't hold eye contact
There is so much and so many and
My body is inflatable
Use! use! use!
Stuff me under your fucking bed
Without cleaning my mouth out
Stick me with a pin and let me escape myself
My head is a balloon
Gleefully close to the sun