How Odd It Is

[Q]

it's hard to explain this
feeling of emptiness as i wash away
this nastiness
and hatefulness,
combined with masochistic
selfishness.

sometimes it feels better to breathe outside.
other times...

the world is my oyster,
as long as it behaves.

but sometimes
i'm crushed like a plastic bottle.
other times
i soar ruthlessly with a stomach
of helium and my eyes roll back as my stomach unfurls,
and my consciousness becomes a vapor,

then flatlines.

other times
i'm just a mosquito, sucking.
occasionally, i'm a man,
fighting.

there are times when i'm a spider;
too many legs to control,
but i manage as long as i don't become

a foreigner in my own land.
a mistake,
or antithesis.

how weird it is to one day
be a socket,
next to a power plant
the day before i'm a
shark, standing.

i've fought hard,
i've lived hard,
i've been hard,
i've loved hard,

but now
it feels like i'm nothing.

you do this to me.