it is too small for me, this thing you call life.
i have tried blending in only to find myself
confined, claustrophobic, suffocated into non-being
i find myself breaking into sweat, forming fluid-filled thoughts
of doubt and compromise, of drowning into conformity
fabricated existence, desperation crawling out of every orifice
breathing in. breathing out. stretching every breath to make it last.
to make it last. to make it count. count for what?
everything they write of, sing for, and bleed into, eludes me