I’m mad.
I’m not mad.
I’m happy.
I’m sad.
I exist.
I feel like doing everything.
I feel like doing nothing.
I am an overworked,
under maintained
machine.
I am spewing my guts,
my gears and bolts,
the things that make me tick,
to make room for new things
because the old ones never stick.
I am obsessed with more.
I am in desperate need of less.