frustration too real

    Bright day turned somber, anxiety levels on the high. Can’t handle the fast beat of this heart, the sudden rushes of emotions, of intense emotions, the intrusive thoughts. The devil knocking on my door, ringing my bell. The switch, like the sudden flick of a switch, my mood turned upside down, the brightness, of the day, turned somber. Dark times these times of waiting. With blood coming out from the tip of my fingers, nails all on the tile, no hair to pull out, crisis, madness. I’m shaking. Wish I could shake out of this body, wish I could run downstairs, trip over, have something else to feel, to care for, to talk about. Can’t keep the words above the straight lines, can’t understand what it is I’m feeling, there’s so much to understand, so much to rip off of me. Dark tone of today, that was bright before. Today was bright, much bright, much happy, I felt that happiness, went after that happiness, tasted it, it tastes great. Oh, my, what’s wrong with me, am I right? I’m wrong, sometimes but most of the time, really, like now, on the wait, feels like I’m on the run. Nothing over my shoulders, but I won’t look if there is, I won’t look in any way, scared of everything, of you and me, of them, I’m falling. I’m failing to keep standing, I’m failing. To stay together, I’m failing. A failure, bad stitch, cotton comes out of me, like a doll in need of stitches, it’s coming out. The flower. It’s coming out, the flower, like the essence of every human. Like all things, and everything, in all progression, in all sincerity. Reality. Realism in the way I spew my verse. Realism on the way I exist within existence. Too real, I am, too real is everything. Everything burnt onto my skin like punishment, like a modern day tattoo, like a swastika on the forearm. The world stamped into me, I’m a cow, an animal. I’m everywhere, I’m water, I’m air, I’m everything, I’m everywhere, I’m all. I’m all out of juice, so tired, fatigued, waiting, on the waiting line you put me in, in this waiting line, I’m waiting on the waiting room while you take your time, amputating the right leg of a poor old man given birth to, this morning. You made me wait, you’re making me wait, my head hurts. Why are you making me wait? What is wrong with you? I thought I could be happy just for a little more time, just a tiny little more time, just a tiny little bit of time but, you left me hanging, waiting, for a response, you left me waiting for whatever it is you have to show me. I’m done, I’m done with this bullshit, is what I said to myself the day I moved. Independent woman, fuck a world, real city, my city, inside of me, living inside of me.