Cathexis

sometimes I pretend I don't care
when I do
I don't know why any of us do this

when really it's passionate, fiery anger passing through me at the speed of light, spilling out through my pores and seeping into my bed sheets

to be alive means to feel, to deny this denies you your birth right to the world...it's like reading your captivating, romantically written memoirs, each page pressed with your last breaths and realizing you spelled one word wrong

everyone has seen it already

chewing your fingertips, swallowing your skin, it's hot outside and the sun is out and you're infuriated because it's December but you smile because nobody wants to hear you do otherwise. descent into madness, the suppression of your depression is worsening your condition, maybe you were never sad at all

maybe it's the serotonin after all

the hustle and bustle of humans interacting in the technological age, on telephones and avoiding contact, surprised when we accidentally brush each other on the sidewalk, shocked others exist. back to your phone call

it's not going to get better, but you're supposed to

we laugh when we hate things, we laugh when we sort of can't stand them, we laugh at all kinds of things but nothing is actually funny anymore 

we are nothing but numbed chaos
peace no longer exists; no hope for a treaty

there are those with hope, grasping onto their false sense of security because what else is there but facing the truth. people demand more more more, better science, better math, better computers. when we give them these things it's "maybe a miracle will happen then, this case is different", never acceptance

hello, this is nine-one-one, state your emergency please

I just wanted to someone to ask me how I was

thank you, disconnect