Crystal Symmetry

With an audience, the absence of time, in control of your place in the multiverse, an eye projecting you out through a telescope with information that contradicts you, your place, all of your attachments, that sadness is not something I wish to spread. Especially with such a broken voice. I’m a child. Beaten up in a playground for not fitting in. Forced to the edge of the universe. Eaten by aliens, burrowing through my intestines. Oh yes, I’m a good person. Lips over my teeth, hiding from a pool of acid in my stomach, and even my stomach bellows “we love you”. People out here just laugh. I stick my head out the window and _feel_ things people cannot comprehend. People would hate me if I told them. It’s a good thing I’m too shit to be able to communicate it. Pure fear. And, in essence, it’s fear of what people might think of me. And fear of my own essence.

So, so, so fucking fast. And look at what I can’t hold. What I eat. What I grind between my teeth. The pain I cause. I wonder what led us here, I wonder what led us from there, I wonder what it is we’re trying to escape from, what we’re trying to attain?