My world is made out of rubber.
It hasn't always been this way.
I think one night while
I was sleeping
someone decided to upgrade to this durable material.
Personally, I find it to be uncertain.
I walk into a building and it feels wobbly.
I shake someone's hand and can literally feel the tire tracks that will tattoo the pavement when they peel out on me.
Most likely when I feel like I need them the most because no drama is complete without a hyperbole/something that cannot actually be projected, like that statement.
Pleasure doesn't feel quite as pleasurable in this world.
I think I've been created out of words.
Much like everything I experience bouncing
off of you and sticks to me.
I'm turing intow fat stanzas.
Pumping one-liners.
I know longer have a plulse.
Just a syllable count.
Stuff just feels off.
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