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Vomit up all of my bats

(to keep them from gnawing on my insides)

Stupid angels' curses instead of blessings

I can't focus



All the world's a jumble

a chaos storm

of tornado flower showers

Sunlight garishly lighting life

Shadows blocking out all that is beauty



Twisting

I writhe

As the only feeling comes from my eyes

In evil glares and callous glances

Nonchalance

All of it lies.



But no psychic can realize

with their ultratelepathy

or empathy

or just plain old human compassion

What my truth really is.