The Deluge

Was _____ furious at us? of our fear
Of being alive, here, at this moment?

The waters, murky and unclean like our
Morals we pride ourselves and claim of ____ 

O _____, I hope the tears of yours aren’t 
Frustration—the deluge you make, I hope,
Cleanses the world internally and out
And isn’t against us or for anyone.

I haven’t drawn anything. Sorry.

Status Quo

The comfort of nothing,
The comfort of all.
The comfort is limiting,
The comfort is comforting,
Therefore it must stay,
And none will think of the affects.
One day we will get comfort,
What all may think,
But that comfort is hurting,
It is comfortable.

I’m so angry at everyone all the time and I feel so angry it’s exhausting. Angry.

Opposites don’t attract,
At least not classic ones.
Some things aren’t opposites,
just different.

Nothing changes and when it does, something gets worse, making it hard to notice that there’s change. I’m here to fester like mold while people pretend to be happy on this rock. My brain is empty, but full, I’m angry and hungry. There’s no escape from seething and marinating from misery and when I say my thoughts to let out internal toxicity, my thoughts cause yelling and anger. I am angry a lot. I believe I’m helping.

But I frustrate those around me and they see me as a whiny brat instead of anything worth helping with unhelpful generic advice I’ve done. I know I don’t have traits people usually like and want to be around, I’m not here to be a side character. I don’t want to apologize for my world view or feel bad that I want to talk and contribute and help. People can treat you as a true burden and an outsider for the most generic of beliefs.

I hate feeling guilt or ashamed. I hate being ignored. The only way I would be better if I was attractive, loud or fun, and had stuff to offer to mainstream groups of people, but I don’t so