To put it simply, I'm surreptitiously superstitious about the subsistence of my existence.
Not to say that I'm undoubtedly unaccountably understandably unstable, but I just feel that right now, in my current state I need to reevaluate the overvaluations of my overcompensation.
Wow, now that's a mouth-full. Having said that, I'm finding it harder and harder to justify the ends by the means. The time it takes to fill my mind in noticeably nonexistent, but to empty it requires an excessive amount of sub-dermal stimulation. I find the thoughts filling my head to be almost foreign in that they don't appear to be my own. As if fingers could possess their own free will, while my brain bleeds and covers the keyboard. Fingers wipe, and eyes pop right out of their sockets.
temperature rises beneath the surface
towards the polar caps we must melt
before the last one sinks into oblivion
we must thrust our flag into it's mass
depleting land while the oceans rise
reminds me we're all waiting to die
some more patiently than others
cause no one wants to bury a child
the same way I don't want to
be buried by my father.
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