Chair.

Hello?

Hello.

I’m sick.

You’re fine.

My head’s a thousand fahrenheit!

It’s not like you will see the light.

Bright causes lances through my mind.

You will adjust, don’t lag behind.

I dug burrows in my horde today.

It’s natural. A place to lay.

Cantines and tangerines flood like water in my room.

Nothing you can’t deal with with just a little groom.

My lungs are beetles, bloods’ a worm

It’s puberty, no need to squirm

My vision transmissions from antennas, static triangles and spears

It’s okay, no need to shed those dramatic displaced tears

My ears are buzzing, a violent ring of flying coughing wings

The pressures’ simply dropped; you look into too many things

My heart’s a beetle, surrounded by its cage!

I’ve tried every single pesticide, can’t seem to turn the page!

Stop overreacting, your heart’s perfectly fine.

I thought you were just paranoid, but now, you’ve crossed the line

The line? What line?

The line across my chest I can’t seem to tear away?

The line like javelins that don’t permit my thoughts to stay?

You say a line is deep and set, the saying bashed in concrete, the border in cement,

but my body is a rubber band, it binds my hands like cuffs,

the centipedes, they bite and bite and burrow, but they do not have enough!

I bit my tongue this Saturday.

You say I bled in lines of red.

But what if I just blurted that I bled in blue instead?

That line you slander is meant to keep you sane

You keep complaining about what binds your chains in my domain

But I say the chains you say you’re bound by don’t exist

And yet you add more side effects to your mad symptom list

You say you bled, I say you cried

Keep crying wolf, I’ll leave your side

Your agony's a phase, a skin you’ll molt next year

Your pain is like a maze, delusion fueled by fear

If you don’t watch your mouth, my help will no longer be near

My sickness is no dance

My sobbings’ not a trance

I beg of thee to let me free, this line I cannot cross

Depression is not just a symptom that you could always gloss!

But alas, your hearings’ gone

When I told you of my death you turned your head and yawned

My tongue became a boatman bug, my teeth are all necrobia

My slug-like lips close on the burning word entomophobia And so I plead insane, unlike Queen Anne Boleyn

Goodbye farewell, we will not meet again.

I know you know you’re guilty, just like Queen Anne Boleyn.