ghost

I am by no means exceptional. 

It’s honestly incredible how hard I work to be mediocre. How much effort I put into being average. 

poetry is false

and i am fake, 

the world is spinning 

on an invisible axel

and i am screaming 

at the top of my lungs

out into darkness

with no one to hear me

i desire maniacal creation

to let words flow past my skin and from my heart

till my skin breaks and my bones ache with their force

till my mind is a muddled mess of focus and their intensity