Why am I on the periphery of existence? Groping for the tangible in this daymare of self-consumption. Why, am I eating myself alive...sidelined, bypassed...does my heart not count for anything? Can you hear its call? Peripheral, perimetered, pronounced inadequate. Inactive, insatiable, inclined to be undermined but nonetheless designed.
Leaking in this language of love
Obliterated in this obscene obsession, an outrage, an oppression, to my opulent soul.
Terminated in the tenacity, the atrocious audacity, to claim incapacity when in effulgence.