I am the man that is sleeping while I'm still awake. I can't breathe and yet my chest moves. I look up to nothing and my eyes numb with fear listen to the air my chest is forcing my body to realize. I run-on as my legs go numb, fear, again, sets in and kills my hope to see him once more.
I see children dying, guns licking babies, and helpless girls hanging by their own blankies. The grown men with full beards laughing at their toes, ripping them off one by one. I chill my lips until they roast on my rotten teeth perpetuating the smell of decay.
Los Angeles is a place of hell for those of us that seek no hope for society and a confirmation of all our doubts of oneself. My car sits with the other death-traps on Santa Monica Blvd. trying to find one way to let my lungs rest. The cramps in the arch of my foot are screaming for me to run over the entitled bitches on two wheels, but I resist only to flight my own head out of a sewer of fog.
He's sitting next to me chatting on about his nonexistence, but he couldn't be more apparent in my eyes. I can see him through the fog and I call out his anme to make him shut up and set my fears at bay. I chug the water hoping for you to find me incapable for dealing with your screams and doubt in my person, but he's there.
I hatelove him and he couldn't lovehate me. I rock back and forth because I couldn't have lunch and I only have my own anxiety dragons firing up my insides, telling me the numbness and blocked eyes are going to draw the end. End here. I rock in a forward motion and a backward motion making him nervous and questioning my well-being...for once.
End here.
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