one need not respond
to the fickle misfiring
of my miswired mind:
not you, not anyone,
except me.

I live here,
and it in me—

is tempting,
but temporary:
an exercise of
before exacerbation
of extant emotions
and paranoid notions.

escape is fictitious.

whimsical and capricious,
my eyes are sleepless
with disparate and
desperate ideas
that break my heart
and beg my brain,

ping a person with
priorities in place
that aren’t and
shouldn’t be
pacifying a
parasite as
pathetic as me.

one need not reply,
but I—

I am forced to face—
and never escape—

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