thoughts

in my head I remain connections never made the physicalities of the self: un pain. age 29 but my back is a soured lime, squeezed just for a nickel and dime poor silly little mime at age nine it was south park the video game, time then drained the lame name, tamed brain destined to be mentally maimed. these thoughts touch and go touch and go otherwise in my head they make themselves at ho- matter not or worry profusely, the duality of anxiety is just too loosely, ordained. God never knew the struggles of introvert who would love chicken low-mein chicken pot pie is delicious is a subjective statement made by the privileged few who never had to sit and stew with their thought, jargon and noise all around as a kid sit around in my head all quiet like is all I ever did. or could do is there hope? Cry the woes of a fella like me nobody truly knows who they're supposed to be is it ordained from birth, every man's story? all the way to the dirt? hope for the hopeless is just an all too familiar pastime that I flirt with perhaps I'll be the same until the day I say hi to the earthworms.