Send it

a gift is a gift

How many times can I be scared before it has no power?

 (If I submit to death, there is no room left for me here, and there is no room left for me there but if life is about only memories to take then I'm already bad.)

Is it really love when I can't talk to them for long?

I want to be human

And they'll look at me knowing I'm sick

Giving me what isn't theirs

Telling me to relax in the cage of time because that's all they know

That's all they know

And I can't begrudge them for it

So I tuck myself in

In this perception

A lesser form of myself

But still myself

It's never a lie just a lack of truth

And I go crazy

And I go sick

And I want to love

Because doesn't that shit make you better

At least even in its toxicity I have something to prove

I have nothing to prove

If everything is in time.

Because I'll get there.

There's a hopelessness in this

Free to be free

And they'll look at me knowing I'm sick

That I can't accept it.

maybe I'm just a narcissist. I can't let go without the embellishment of self-deprecation, there's something so unserious about living when everything is an obligation, without it where would you float to?  today, hating or being hated upon is a form of entertainment, and I can't take that seriously if it's so accessible. if it doesn't eat people up inside like it does to me. if I don't belong, what's so serious about that when existence comes easy? I'm resentful. and even in death,  there is no grip, it's more of a moment than life.  You're infallible in existence and it hurts and I can't accept it.  because if I accept it why would I ever need any of you?  I want to be a part of something, I need to socialize myself like I am my own pet. I don't want to go back, living the past,  but how am I to prove to myself that I was ever there when I can't even be here?  I look too much ahead and I see nothing because I've already decided that someone else will do it for me. 

time.