It doesn't add up.

I wish I could walk forwards without looking back
but I'm walking in reverse staring at what's ahead,
knowing I'll never get there.

I prick my finger with a pin and complain that it hurts;
I feel too much while I feel nothing at all.
Living in a song with no tune or rhythm
But that's fine cos I can't dance anyway.

I send RSVPS to everyone then
complain that it's crowded,
pissed on soberness.

I cram my sticks and stones down my gullet;
sputtering and gargling SOS
melodies.

Pseudo-necromancy indulges and invades, the empty caverns
in my cranium
flooded with cancer.

Eclipse-faced, my eyes roll ahead to tranquility.
I sit in a night sky, velvet pounding my chest.

The sand dribbles out my skull, creating mountains around me. Incognito, I scramble between the grinds.

Hierarchy casts a shadow island around me. My self twitches; reduced into a pond.

A single gaze sprints between the shoulders of the crowd and
dives into my sockets.

It travels and cascades down to my slow heart. A kick-start, it beats then it dies.

I lock myself in a cage to evade
the masses.
But in here I victimise myself.

Welcome to me, everyone.