It could be like this forever
We could be
And I look forward to it
I can’t sleep
For butterflies in my stomach
Urging me to feed my soul
I do
For lack of something
Only makes some want it more
So I deprive myself
I don’t though
It’s all bullshit
I couldn’t
Because I might lose what little
Sense of self I have left
Too much control I say
The self is what beats like bass
The rhythm of your heart
Mine is faint though
Like the beating of doves wings
I can’t stand to think
That I can’t hear my own music
But like Beethoven
I still write symphonies
Masterpieces in their own right
But my life
It’s hard to breathe when you’re
Being strangled by the
Undertones of sensory overload
