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I can see it like I was a hero.
Super, a being invincible,
Who feels anger and becomes angry,
Who feels jubilation and becomes jubilant,
Who feels sorrow and becomes sad.
A raucous noise that is constantly interrupting—
My train of thought.
Thousands of words crawling inside of my pestering and petulant mind.
Am I weak?
Am I corrupted?
Am I insane?
The creepy overflowing nonsense that harasses me at dawn.
The lips of a man or woman that breathe tobacco in abundance,
Their hazy smoke of socialization,
Surrounding my overzealous desire to fit with the rest,
Like a puzzle piece from a discontinued era.
The putrid smell of my yearning to adapt to a century of,
Manipulation, Confrontation, examination.
Retribution, revolution, institution.
Government, they say it’s unconstitutional,
Who reacts with malice,
Who creates a fallacy,
Who bites each of their ears,
In bitter carnivorous undertones.
I range from forced diplomacy,
To imposed refinement.
Not a creature of habit,
Rather a storm of impulse.
It is a gift as well as a weakness.
I impose my thoughts,
And ravage yours.
In my consciousness I see,
Maniacal, media, masochism.
Structure for the sake of structure,
Concocted and conceived by historical,
Civil and foreign propriety.
Lost on our endless egocentric behavior.
I am no longer searching for conformity.
No, I am forever longing for Inspiration.