I want catharsis. I want to vomit up poetry instead of empty threats to whichever artery seems most important to sustaining my anatomy.
I want agency. I want to erase this filter. This nagging tendency I have to self censor for no reason other than accidental exposure.
I want to be handsome. I want to focus my vanity, to be proud of the feeling that all eyes are on me for reasons that don’t pertain to being a monstrosity.
I want to be normal. I want to rid myself of my envy, of my narcissism, of the war against this constant enemy and exhume the entity hellbent on sapping all my energy.













