taste of the world

[tenmasaki]

i stared for a minute or a moment or a long decade of ten years in exactness, am i the villain in your story?

i say it in words you don't know, that the person selected now is farthest away from being me, for i am the protagonist to my own story. the person, that person, this person i cannot tell anymore, i'll drag you down against our will. am i a fool, to be callous, to be cold? despite how kind the world is to me, i want to drag you all down like a selfish person.

despite how kind the world is to me, i'll always want more.
if i was more cruel,
i might say i need more, more than this, more than that, more than the world that loves me so.
i'm the meanest of people, and yet i say, give me more and more of that world, so kind, i'll smother you with my loathing as thanks, my style of gratitude.

what's with that look?

if this is the world we live in, we both must get used to it. if i decay in fours, you wilt in eights. let us learn to understand it, the words we don't know, that person selected now is neither you nor me, but is it really the case?

i speak in nonsensical words haphazardly glued together, you speak in poetry and prose that is getting in my head.

i say, i say, i say,
and yet you mourn for me despite how i
remain here, and continue to let my heart beat rhythmically.

against,
aghast.