There's a long thin crack in all reason and sanity
A slow, aching thing that plagues all of my internal organs
Prohibiting their function, inflaming my IBS, raising my bile levels
To extreme levels undreamt of by those with healthy, unemotional esophagi
I can't tell you just how I feel because, to be honest, I dont' know myself
Figuratively and literally
And on all levels, all fantasy, fiction, and painful existances
Driving to someplace that I don't want to be
Being somebody I don't want to be.
But who do I wanna' be?
No answer to this question that I can see
No inspirational, flowery poetry
So emo, so emo, so conditional
How can I give an answer when I don't what the question is?
My cells are cursed by my own genetics
I linger in a far off room, surrounded by AA books and fun size Butterfingers
Hey, I thought we couldn't bring outside food in.