Psychoetry

Like the naive soldier killing insurgents just to get back home I've tripped into the deep end so many times that I'm addicted to the bends so feed me some pills and squeeze me until my insides erupt from the throat because I no longer have a use for them.

They've been telling me that my words are painful and cantankerous. It's far from my intention. I feel that enough for myself. The clocks move slowly and spit magma onto my bed. I just want everyone to know I'm brimming with love while my arteries overflow with contempt.