My self-flagellation is at an all-time high

20 miles up

In the cerulean sky

And for the record,

I haven’t felt like this

Since I was a boy

And dontcha feel like the edgy blue teen

Spitting lines about their mind

“That great big island”

They say

“With great big complexity”

Dontcha feel like brooding

Out of a stormy window

Dontcha sigh about the great big world?

And I’m not

I‘m not in the right headspace

Maybe it’s cus I shot myself

out

in hand sanitizer and hair spray

And I’m not

I’m not here to fight.

I’m sitting in the eye of the storm

It’s like a summer breeze is running

Between the gaps of my fingers

A tsunami to surf on

An earthquake to fall through

I’ve become the Earth’s core

Only to be an idea that lingers.