my standards aren’t high but they aren’t as low either

what a world so below us that we have been set on one condition

one slow rhythm for our generations

peace

it’s all about present

and tense

tense and present

present tense

i’m tense

my body tenses at the ick of that word

yet it’s all i seem to feel

i hold in my own breath like i’m gasping for the taste of real life

but isn’t this as real as it gets?

the pain one seems to hold never sits right with my head

and in my head i picture a loaded heart

sick and screaming

yet with no way to let it free

i can

but why?

when my standards are set low?

and then high?

back and forth

back and forth

it’s like water running through fire

cold and hot

hot and cold

like this poem

it angers me

why do i bother to write when i’m feeling so ill?

and i know that all i will spit out is nothing but the worst version of who i’m becoming as i live and lay here

alone

and

h

u

r

t

i’m angry and this could not be more heightened

i’m heightened

take it away

dance it away

maybe it’ll dissipate