I see bubbling noodles showing me a sick narcissism.
The noodles are the good in me disintegrating.
I wander through bipolar land and know
sometimes I hide, and sometimes I need adoration.
When I hide, I want to fall asleep and not come back.
When I seek, I hate the asshole that I am, and I see
I am so far away from being a good thing in this world.