upside down...

Trapped like an insect in a glass. World's been turned upside down without a chip or a crack. There’s nothing like blooming upwards to the bottom in a state of confusion. As density forces me down as the rim lays flush in the illusion. Get me outta this condensed atmosphere in which I’m to run outta air. How am I prisoner of my own doings when I was just a drift lingering, wanting nothing more than to be spared? I can feel the anger reaching from the inside out. My hands can’t get a grip so I must havta fight my way from within my invisible cell that hollows out the sounds. Hello, hello, hello? Echoes collide with each other as if someone else is calling to me. Echo, echo, echo. Where’s the exit to the madness that surrounds all that I’m allowed to know? I hear me repeat myself so I refuse to speak to the insanity I’ve come to hate. The obliteration of me, by me, is not my fate. I must escape this cruel intent of a joke that’s been bestowed upon my mental stability slowly losing chuckles in thy ribs.  Abandoned by the outlands as the seclusion is a view from behind eyes that are losing focus with the shutting shutters off eyelids. Collapsing on a distant visual I cannot reach to save me from myself. I believe I made my own figurative hell. Oh look, another new day brewing the same ol shit bcuz I can’t find the outlet to revive my vitals once again. It’s just a repeated cycles of nonsense exploiting the creation of the battle no one seems to realize exists within a man. Reaching isn’t failing, it’s just an adjustment to correct the current dysfunctions twisted by hands that tipped me over. As I poured out the weakest pieces and yet still remain reevaluating intentions tucked in a vault deep in an unknown folder. Burn it! I tell myself attempting not to see my reflection of scars I’ve become under the magnifying glass that intensifies the parts of me that’s worth more than this bullshit. My fists bang on the inner surface of the bulletproof shield I haven’t come to shatter without destroying myself. But at least it’s tinted so no one I can’t be seen squirming from side to side in my tumbling exhaustion not wanting to be felt. As chattering whispers talk. When will the glass ceiling fall..?