Id rather not

I am so tired of the eyes watching me, blinking at different times. Different colors and different afflictions drawn to them. I am covered in their line of sight, "I am sick" they offer, an illness cured by infection. Still I am on my own path and I refuse their kind offer of redemption. "We are sick" Maybe not physically but I do know what they speak of, the constant tiredness not mentally but spiritually "you are sick." I've lost God, consider fate and the mother gone, I worship the misery and the rotting because that is the world I've come to feed. "Starving the problem" have you forgotten who you are attached to? A host so amazing as to offer you a dark place to hide your sins? You Make Me Sick, I am tired of being the covering and the way of life. I am sick of playing mediator between you and the sky. "We are sick" more of a montra than an offer now, I walk each step with the dotted i of the I am statements that line my now corrupt systems "i am sick" I don't plan on fixing it because now I am an artist and the muse, I am stuck in a world where I can stalk and be you. I can cause your worsening compulsions and be at peace with my mania. They don't know what I've come down with, but they think it's the cause of my hysteria.