mundane machines
I’m tired of being on edge all the time
a mundane machine, overclocked and
ready to explode in the most boring
way possible, silently, chaotically, internally
no one can see the quake, no one can
feel my insides shake — it’s like the more
I’ve gotten to live in my inside world
the less I’ve been able to function out there,
in what everyone else seems to call reality
I’m not delusional, I know that’s the world
out there, but that doesn’t stop it from
being stupid and dangerous and filled
with maniacs ready to stomp on your day
without warning — in that vein, I’m sick of
being doubted, I’m sick of skeptics and
scorned reactions — I can’t take all the questions
about who I am and what I’ve done and
what else I think I can do, oh, you think
I’m overqualified too — fuck you, that’s not
a reason to walk past me, that’s not a reason
to leave me in the dust — maybe you’re a little
intimidated, that you might not look as good
with a brilliant fuck-up like me working right
beside you — listen, I fucking told you what
I can do — I show it day in, day out…
the proof is in the metal, touch it, feel it
for yourself — shit, this whole thing is like
going on a million dates, and you know you’re
a 10 & somehow the endless stream of fugly losers
keeps rejecting you, ghosting you, no answers,
and no reasons — it’s insane, it’s not right…
something is not right with this game, you start
to think one plus one doesn’t actually…
