How outside pressures could mutate

The power of perception sickens me,

Twists my stomach into knots that choke me as tight as the air that I breathe

And I do, I do breathe it in gasps

As if my surroundings could dilute oxygen

the sound of enemy voices slams the world together

Shut, within a suitcase

Gone fathers shouldn’t matter

Wavering connections, thinner than spider silk

About as strong as foam

Still exert pressure on my throat

Maybe there is something intangible

The magic realists were right

Because I can’t seem to run away from all that defines me, even though none of it does

The people might say they love me, but still, a reverberating buzz

Builds up inside my chest every time I look at myself and fight for reassurance

I don’t know why I need this I don’t know why I can’t just be different than who I am

Dog barks echo, beating me down

Take up your chisel and plow my bones into dust

Until shards dance circles across the mahogany floor

There was supposed to be an escape, a dustpan somewhere

The line between there, and in here, wavers under this pressure