A Display Of Hysterics

Emotional Outbreak

It’s a dark simulation. Our souls make their way
To these game token bodies of weak flesh and bone.
But this isn’t a real place, and what we do here
Is a delicate balance between love and fear.
Each of us is an island that floats on its own.
Nothing is worth the bother to hear what we say.

This is not true for everyone. I’ll walk it back.
There’s a game being played here, but some can’t take part.
It’s as if they’ve no vocal cords yet try to speak
And expect to heard. I’m about out of cheek
Because there’s no more turning. This world breaks my heart
And since no one is reading this I’m right on track.

Often I get hysterical and I lash out.
I am that anti-social I’ll curse everyone
Because I have a website. No one plays along.
Others have one but because I do It’s just wrong.
Friends and family would have me take a handgun
To my head rather than look at what I’m about.

Everyone plays this bullshit with me and it hurts
To the depths of my soul, and it makes me insane.
I’m an angry old bastard. Do Not Fuck With Me!
This Game Is An Illusion. That much I can see.
Twisted Twilight Zone episodes are for whose gain?
Friendliness is fake tool to fuel just deserts.

And do I waste my time here? Again, there’s no ‘here,’
But a ‘somewhere’ to suffer one’s plight upon stage.

People are fun to play with, but not in this hell
Where I’m just not worth looking at. This evil spell
Is not what I’ll get used to. I’ll nurture my rage
To the point of explosion. To no one I’m dear.

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