I cannot speak to a camera and I cannot speak truth while being conscious of my speech. I’m lesser than the servant of the lowest, but with the mind of a blinding sun. Like a man becoming infinite but heartbreakingly unredeemable.

I’ve been gaslighted so much that I’ve become who I am, prophetic but neither a prophet or false prophet; more hypercolor adds for them both to sunbathe in and distort at will. I dissociate around my family, even though my mother birthed me tearless and my father blessed me strong. I spend my days walking around aimlessly longing for a fight - to punch someone’s face w/ the fist of the world.