i exist within the feelings that cant be expressed,
spoken,
utterd,
articulated
Bbecause of this incessent blundering that comes when
youre thoudts are the only thing(s) that makes cents
to anyone but yourself--
shit!
i ment noyone but me--
it is more then lower concentrations of
biochemical and genetic markers,
that cauzes my brane to lie to itself.
damn this insensitive,
thoughtless,
pittiless
medical bullshit that labls
my words as meaningful(less) until
they come out of my mouth,
faltering
awnd
sthammering,
s-s-stuttering
successin of slip-ups
that compelz me too question? the authenticity
behind the meaning--
must,
cannot lie in the succession--
arrangement
of the words
but in the sentiment itself
(confused?)
"the dour ink glares back in mockery
as it lauhgs cruelly in words
you will never understand."
p.s -work in progress-

