I am broken. Ground. Scattered.
I float in little pieces, each in a world of its own, each thinking a different thought, scared , confused.
I hear a thousand or more screams, I don’t know how many of me are out there, the screams rising out like the fiery orange flames of the fire.
I am the fire, in the fire, and I see the snakes dancing licking the fire, tearing their tongues apart.

I cry out, nonononono, I am the snake and you are my stone, and I am the one with the broken skull.

All the boundaries set, all restrictions in place, but none of the privileges.

The dreams bore me. Wish I wouldn’t dream. I hate the dreams I mistake for reality. The sleep blends them. People shouldn’t have to sleep, or maybe not have to wake up. The inventor of dreams should be shot. While we are at it, we’ll shoot the alarm clock guy too.

Sanity is only a perception. Then so is insanity.

Quantum of feelings. Being bitter. Being happy. Being blessed. Being alive.
It is not about the right to be angry. It is about being angry.

Rights I have none.