Intrusion

Each day I wake up with a thousand words, ideas, memories, possiblities within my brain, a hollow prison, inescapable. Sometimes I wish for a jailbreak: to say what I shouldn’t, to think thoughts that betray my existence, to slam my head against a wall until my teeth shatter.

Imagine a needle going through your eye. Piercing the surface leaving a crisp puncture. Through your iris mixing red into your chocolate brown, or ocean blue, or however the fuck I’m supposed to describe green. Is it even red? How far do you have to go? Does your eye ooze like jello or is it more like a grape?

Each and every aspect of human life is specific and carefully curated for a reason. We exist due to a million coincidences all coming together. Our planet, our galaxy, us as people. So why do I feel like I have to mess it up? You know when something is too perfect? Why do you just want to knock everything over? Why must it be ruined?