I'd rather be sleeping.

I can't convince anyone. They give up on me or they run past me. I present to everyone a wall of shivering limbs and muscles. Muscles around the lips and eyes that avoid contact with others. Quivering. Imbibing the fears and dislikes of the ones I admire and respect. Internalizing them. A disgusting self-defense mechanism. I'm the silver sinewy piece of growth pushing pieces of bile out from it's mouth. Synchronizing every piece and motion with a different beat. Stringy and frail. I'm the syncopated sinew treading slowly over water. Scared of it's home. Scared of the new. Scared of the familiar. (I'd rather be sleeping/I'd rather run away from myself). I lean on anyone I can.