Thousands of heads turning and gawking,

Burning their eyes to catch a glance.

Hundreds of hands clawing at my skin,

Craving and yearning for the chance.

Is it worth it to synthesize in the warmth of the light?

But when that light turns off, and no one is there

And all you’re left with is yourself to stare

Can you sit in the darkness comfortably,

Seeing what you see?

It’s funny that one thinks he knows all

From what shoes to put on to the socks that match

But it’s all an act.

So when one thinks he knows all

Remember it’s all a part of his show,

Remember it’s he who beckons for loneliness

And it’s he who is consumed by his self-loathe and insecurities

That make it impossible for others to feel the warmth of his skin.

I just wasted all of today.

Eat your food as if it were a science project and you’ll lose weight.

I think I’m manic…