Boredom and I aren't friends
It brings out my crazy and I have no defence.
I will make plans about nothing until I feel like I'm me,
Blaring music and attempting to succeed
I have no direction and I'm forever stung
Breathing in still air and filling my lungs
Just so that I can scream
Using that air as my ammunition
I throw bullets with words
And no intuition
I'll take over the world
Because I'm bored,
I'll hurt
I'll sigh
And I'll surprise.
Because I'm bored,
I'll fake cry,
Fake die,
And tell lies.
Like a villian making noise for distress
I'll hurt a soul
Then make them watch as I undress
I'll paint odd objects
And watch people bleed.
Because I need to succeed
At nothing...
And everything.
I shout for help silently
While i watch tv
Currently deciding if i need to breathe
I'll decode a riddle that was never there
Change my whole vision and dye my hair
I'll make a disguise out of wisdom and speech
I'll shout, laugh, whisper and screech
Because I'm bored,
I'll become sex crazed
Imagining each stranger
No matter their sex or age...
Wondering of their secrets and what makes them tick
Whether they prefer pussy,
Or other strangers dicks
Because I'm bored,
I allow the madness.
I find humour in the tragedy around us.
He calls me crazy. Sometimes weird or strange.
I guess you get used to it at this stage.
