Myriad

I feel like Chloe.

I feel like I'm dying and all I wanna do is get laid.

"Chloe had oils and handcuffs..."

"She had strapless underwear at home, and cried."


It's not that I'm desperate (well maybe a little). Or that it's been ages since the last time.

I guess I'm just starting to feel a need for physical human contact. A need to be loved.

When I find myself alone
I feel like I'm falling behind
Like everybody is two steps ahead of the game.

And I'm stuck here... doing nothing.


It's hard for me to understand my memories and make them fit into my present.
Forget about the future,
That's something I can't even consider.

Watching the fluoro people march past me on a daily basis
Marching to the beat of a drum I'm just not able to hear.
So intent on being different they don't realise they're just like everybody else.

And who am I to judge?
Am I so different?
I claim no great learning, no revelation.
Just a knowledge and a realisation
... and an admission.

At the very least I can acknowledge what I see for what it is.
And admit to who I am.

I just want the truth. From myself as much as from the rest of you.

Cold. Hard. Truth.

The pain of truth is a temporary thing.
It's the bitter taste in your mouth that lets you know that, yes you are taking your medicine
and yes, you will feel better for taking it.