Wriggling Worth
Wriggling Worth
confess what it is you take
when I gaze upon his face
as he must as well
although he sees, i realize
a vision of a purely putrid hell
he is disgusted with me in the doorways
he hates me in the halls
no hope in escaping his ignoring days
or his shadow on my wall
it's institutionalizing for me to think
an obtrusive thought, every time I blink
can not be one entity
more interested in indeviduality
he is the object of by eyes
a pretty, pretty disguise
but beneath his layer of pretty pretty flesh
he is bones like me and nothing is left
no personality
for me to be
so quickly following
because he should just be nothing to me
