this isn't about you.

i'm always at odds with myself. i'm anxious and shakey. the flourescent lights make my head buzz. every bolt and screw and nail in this building is rattling around inside my little head.

i feel reckless. i want oceans in my mouth and whales in my lungs. i want tall buildings falling in the palms of my hands. i want the sky on my shoulders. i want silence and sirens. i want bathtubs flooding. i need three hours of driving and twenty-thousand cigarettes. i want to tear open time and kiss the lips of stark imagery and wake up startled and alone.

this isn't about you.