everything feels bottled up inside and I don’t know how to get it out appropriately anymore
the poetry is turned off somewhere so I can’t make it beautiful and if I try and let it flow out it just lumps up all painfully awkward and grossly vain like some throbbing cystic acne sore right on your nose you can’t even avoid looking at
everything says wait
everything says you have to stop wanting the thing you want more than anything for it to come to you
everything says it will be even more years of standing by watching everyone else with it
and right now it feels like forever
and it makes me so sad that feeling
and I don’t want any of your damn platitudes right now
I just want to be able to express myself gracefully again
and not feel like I’m vomiting on a stage when I do it
but like I’m in a circle of my fellows like it used to happen where you could express things out in the nethersphere and it felt like a safe corner of the room and not like a damn billboard in the spotlights at the side of a highway
all this thumbs-up shit has amputated our brains atrociously and I know because I used to be able to paint pictures with words so easily all the time like riding a bike down the street and now I’m a two-year-old in the corner trying to convey meaning by babbling and wailing
it is so very frustrating
this