by Betty Please don't put your ugly spells on me, burdened by devastation and guilt. My vision is difficult to see, past buildings and cars, people running to nowhere with some oblivious mission and disrespect. I don't like to alienate myself or portray anger, but as a result of not being sucked into this false reality I cannot say I'm happy, or understood. And I yawn from boredom. Awake your deadly pattern, don't crowd this luminescent departure from your trance. A whisper of an ego has made me deaf. How amusing it is to repeat things over and over, but after so long the object gets worn out and it can't breathe, it begs to be left alone. Long been dead. Digging up this extreme death just to cradle and decorate and call my own, I don't understand this being human.