when fire loses oxygen

here i am

here i am not me

my mind as neutral as motel wall art

my thoughts are soft like cat fur

my emotions pliable and bland

where the fuck is

my normal

my comfortable

my natural

irrational, gritty, fired up and fucked over

lost in the maze of neurons and menges

i can feel it like a ghost on the bed

but i can’t grab ahold of it

it’s not accessible

there are dust-devils of actions, reaction, inactions

whirling around

whipping through my consciousness

long enough

hard enough

fast enough

to remind me they are still there

mocking me that i can’t catch them

this isn’t the first time

this won’t be the last

the cycle me gets lost more easily these days

“idiopathic loss of cognition”

i need to live life by the teeth

i need to see the heavenly and evil in everything

i need to scream

i need to stomp

i need to be alive

i need to think

i need to feel

i fucking hate beige


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