A Sunny Day In Thalamus

I'm sick, and it's a pretty little illness
A prefrontal bacteria that eats away my willingness
To live within the social parenthesis
I'm twisted, sick from this political annilingus.

The jacket that I'm wearing will define my disorder
I'm due to see a professional Visceral Marauder.
I'm screaming "Carpe Diem!" into the recorder
Fuck this society of mental money launderers.

Marauder, liar, completely unreliable,
he'll molest my cortex and confirm I'm certifiable
He slides his fingers through a hole in my unmentionables
The way in which he practices is comically unconventional.

I'm sick, and it's a pretty little illness
The parasites beneath my tongue flicker in the stillness
I'll go to work again tomorrow, pity, little business.
The tapeworm in my spinal cord reminds me I'm conformist.

©

Clever... however


should I be concerned for your well being? Because I am...

It's just literature, if you can even call it that.

Had to make sure