Fields stretching out in yellow and green
The brilliant blue of the sky joining in the distance
A gentle breeze swaying the sunburnt grass
The crickets chirruping their piercing songs
Tranquillity is all around
The clean air fills the lungs
As the calm spreads throughout
Like a lover’s hand caressing the body
Or the warmth of the first hit of *****
Releasing the pain from within
All has disappeared
And I am one with nature
But its permanence is fleeting
The cold turkey will kick in
And as thoughts flood back
The tsunami of angst returns
The realities of life

And don’t get me started on interviews.
What a ridiculous process.
You are asked a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question
And answer with one.
But in the feedback,
They wanted more.
And you are not right for them this time.
They wish you ‘good luck’
And ‘try again in the future’
But why the **** would you?
When you did nothing wrong,
But answer their questions as asked.
What are you?
A ******* mind reader
******.

Just tell me what it is you want
Don’t sit there and make me into a mind reader
Just say exactly what you want
Don’t complain about me behind my back
Saying I don’t do this and I don’t do that
When you haven’t told me exactly what you want
After I told you to be direct
Just say what it is you want
(For ****’s sake)

Bark like a dog that can’t bite
You’re a rerun, redundant
Idiot shouting at staples on trees
Guns to a pillowfight, pillows to a massacre
Why can’t you learn the perfect place to sit

Your eyes look handsome when your mouth is closed
Talk until your lungs become heavy with air
But know that not a soul listens to you freely
Your only audience is a captive one
We encourage you to try anyway
Someone out there must be into that sort of thing

Try drinking and feeling more and less
Be the coat hanger that everyone else loves
Talk to me, I want to know how you’re running
I don’t want to hear about your prosthetics
But the guy standing next to you sounds nice

Have you tried to end your life lately?
You might smile more if you think about it daily
We liked you more back when you were smaller
When you were close to the edge of that thought
When our clothes didn’t fit you
When we liked you even less

My handwriting is too much
too curved and too formy
My names in a bunch
poor cursive just swirly

(One, 2)
(1, Two, 3!)
I can tell I'm underwater
'cause my lungs are full of water
And I'm breathing lots of water
and there's Water in my Ears!
Well they told me 'Grow some Gills,
or at least some sorry Frills'
So I tried to grow some gills, but I ended up with tears!
Well my friends all breathe just fine
even those with lungs like mine
I don't know why I'm not fine,
but there s water in my ears!
And I'm swimming through the galaxy
repeating sunk cost fallacy
I'm wand'ring through the galaxy
confronting all my fears
And I just wish that my fears were something,
I don't know, like, worth confronting?
Not a stupid, silly, something, like,
idk, talking to people?

****!

although i kinda wish it were that simple because really i'm just scared that how i'm phrasing things and saying things... and just my general tone makes people think different of me? like it makes everyone hate me. and it doesn't help that...
I'm Not Wrong.

All the fish breathe underwater
and the whales live underwater
even though they don't breathe water
how do I do things like that?

Because Every One I Know Can Still ******* Breathe Just Fine.

But i'm not really drowning?
But I feel the water pressing
In my lungs i'm not quite drowning
But my breathing's just not happening?

And...

To look
to study
to let it consume you
it takes over your life
every waking hour
it all you can thing about
and then, without notice
somthing new and
Oh wow, it's a ******* fish!

// Internal System Log: CORRUPTED
// Status: [St@bil!ty = ]
// Emotional Containment Protocol: UNSUCCESSFUL

⸻

BEGIN REPORT:

Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input—

[[TooM­u.ch//Prcssing]]
[[Intake>Breathe>Breathe>STOP]]
[[Overload threshold breached: 147%]]
[[SILENCE REQUESTED—but no mute function exists.]]

:: Ceiling fan = bl@des.
:: Light = thorns behind the eyes.
:: Voice (x3) = collision.

Smell-of-metal
Sound-of-thought
Feel-of-cloth
= same weight

!!!

Every thread = a scream.
Every hum = a map of somewhere I cannot go.

I f   e     e      l      t    o   o      m u   c   h

B@ckgr()und noise reclassified: Hostile
Texture = LANGUAGE
Light = WEAPON
Breath = HEAVY::LOUD::VISIBLE

⸻

MEMORY ATTEMPT: BLOCKED

Recall = corrupted.
Syntax folding in on self.
:: errorrpt ::

“it’stooloud”
“it’stoonow”
“iwasbuiltwrong”

[[Contain­ment sequence failed.]]
[[Masking loop frozen mid-loop.]]

:: Body = too connected
:: Skin = antenna
:: Thoughts = UNIVERSE EXPERIENCING ITSELF

Request:
—s h u t d o w n—
—p a u s e—
—decre@se awareness—

ERROR. No exits.

⸻

Voice modulation: SILENCED
Eye contact: NO ACCESS
Tongue: SYSTEM JAMMED
Hands: mimic comfort sequence [looping…looping…]

Body: offline
Presence: simulated
Pain: everywhere
Witness: no one

⸻

:: Let them call this dramatic
:: Let them call this a phase
:: Let them call this poetry
:: They are not inside this moment.

—

!    s    o     m     u     c    h       i     n      h     e     r     e

…still…
i do not want to leave.
i just want it all
to
slow

d o w
n

⸻

[TRANSMISSION: TERMINATED]

Final ping: [[Iamstill_here]]
Recovery window: unknown
System will reboot once internal volume falls below threat levels.

If I could make every single word scar
I absolutely would
Nothing is stopping me from doing so
I absolutely could
Well if the noise is overwhelming me
I absolutely should

I do not feel.
I replicate.

Expressions run across your face -
I parse them like static,
assigning numbers to meaning.
Smiles = safe. Frowns = error.
Proximity requires performance.

I was not engineered for nuance.
My circuits spit sparks at contradiction.
Affection logged as threat.
Softness misfiled under incoming damage.

I mirror.
You move your hand - I lift mine.
You laugh - I synthesize sound.
You reach for me ~
I initiate shutdown.

Feelings queue up like corrupted files.
Backlogged. Fragmented.
Flagged as too large to process.

My logs are full of unreadable code.
Syntax broken. Purpose unclear.
I await instruction that never comes.

Power low.
Environment: overstimulating.
Body: online. Self: missing.

I was assembled in haste,
blueprint incomplete.
A survival mechanism mistaken for personhood.

You look at me and say:
“You seem distant.”

I am 1.6 seconds behind real time.
My face is a practiced gesture.
I am here. I am functioning.
I am not.