Sam Pink - You Hear Ambulance Sounds and Think They Are for You

You are a very real person when that is what you wish you weren't most.

You avoid phone calls.

You fail in yearlong increments that shake hands with their successors when their shift is done and then go home proud.

You think that all lives are an individual's strange insistence on choosing a lifetime of last words.

You look at your hands and say, "I wish these were hard enough to ruin bricks and stones," and then you say, "but I don't know how to make my head into a brick or stone so it doesn't matter."

You have imagined yourself standing still, smiling as everyone around you drops dead.

You have a vision of a faceless woman sitting in a chair knitting the future and it is a long photo negative of everything that happens ever.

You have bad paranoia and you can't even return things you buy when you find out they’re broken, because you are annoyingly shy out of nowhere.

You wash your face after crying so you can just say, "No, I’m just tired."

You feel fine always.

You keep putting your hands in your pockets and then inventorying the things inside because you are neurotic.

You have nice teeth.

You see old birthday cards you’ve kept for some reason and each one joins the swarming sharp things that make pulp of your heart.

You see your own face in the swarm of sharp things that only looks for more hearts.

You stare at the ground while scratching your face and you don’t know what you are doing.

You just want someone you trust to cut you open somewhere to prove there is no gravel inside.

You just want to make sure.

You have seen me begging and you like it.

You admire yourself and you like it.

You hate when life reminds you it is really happening.

You are older now than you've ever been and it is not something you look forward to continuing over and over endlessly.

You are very real when that is what you wish you weren’t most.

You hear ambulances sounds and think they are for you and you like it.

You have never approved of yourself so you bother other people to do it.

You are an invisible trail of replicating statues each more fun to be around than the last.

You never help out people as much as they help you and that's the underside of something even uglier and it bothers you.

You have dumb hands.

You go to public areas and you expect people to group up and tell you you add nothing and you should leave, and you are willing to congratulate them on being right.

You don’t argue.

You just ate so much fruit-flavored cereal your stomach hurts bad.

You mention when someone else has stolen a relatively worthless pen because you have principles.

You think principles are real.

You eat things even if they aren't fully microwaved because you don't deserve any luxury.

You are the most beautiful motherfucker on the planet forever times the square root of 78,889.

You seem like a servant to someone you hope eventually asks you for something, for anything.

You get dead so slow.

You lost all your hair but I still love you.

You will feel pain.

You will not learn from it.

You will be mistreated by people, because somebody has to do it and at least you get to pick who.

You congratulate yourself on being right.

You are married to trying to defend yourself and you have soft gumlines for weapons you motherfucker.

You get preferential treatment in your own bad afterlife.

You are right to ruin yourself now so the afterlife will be a handicapped parking space.

You will not learn from it.

You are royalty when no one asks you to explain something you just said.

You aren't sure whether you have feelings or not but that’s all part of the shrug you have performed in slow motion for your entire life so far.

You will continue this shrug.

You will be rewarded.

You should hold a contest where the donations are used to pay to have a plane fly directly into my head.

You should do things on purpose.

You keep people away from you on the train because you smell bad.

You do this on purpose.

You do half of your living actions on purpose and half on accident and the accident half begins to overproduce and you like it you fucker!

You think it seems like everyone else is living some kind of life that involves ideas that exist outside your world and when you look around you think, "'No hope' is a feeling I have a lot."

You think about the why of the why and a block of ice surrounds your head.

You are getting taller and taller and sadder and sadder.

You jump off high things but always make sure to land in ways that won't hurt.

You have known the experience of dividing yourself equally among other people who only want to divide you more.

You seem alright but you will know the general habit of being avoided.

You will know my ability to avoid.

You will secretly compliment my ability to avoid.

You are proud that you can concisely and effectively tell people how to beat certain video games.

You have never said anything that I didn't hang up on my wall I promise.

You haven't even felt a kiss yet you motherfucker!

You are terrrible with three r's, you.

You aren't sure whether you have feelings or not but that’s all part of the shrug you have performed in slow motion for your entire life so far.

You continue the shrug, waiting to hear an ambulance.

You have a recent fixation of imagining yourself doing a front-flip through a table and then just lying there laughing.

You laugh a lot and it hurts and you like it.

You have no sexuality at all.

You feel palpably more free when your phone isn't charged or isn't working.

You just ate a fudgesicle and it fucking dominated your taste buds and you keep repeating “fucking domination” in your head until it’s senseless and it’s time to go to bed already?

You are everyday and you like it.

You make friends with strangers standing on pieces of ice that are melting and you like it.

You are only bored because you hate yourself.

You only know what to do when no one is watching.

You always act like people are watching.

You are a big monster made of wet newspaper and you get pushed down every three seconds and no one’s afraid of you.

You have no reason to remain alive.

You built a small dwelling in your closet with some hangers and a sheet and you did this to avoid people, not to have fun.

You never have any fun you fucker.

You only talk to yourself.

You will not survive that one beautiful thing you discovered when you weren’t even trying.

You would like someone to throw a shoe at you now; you would just go, "Thank you."

You miss a lot of people but it comes out as a strong miss of only one thing.

You own your own ideal and you hate it.

You should commit suicide twice.

You're older now than you've ever been and it’s not something you look forward to continuing over and over endlessly.

You hear ambulance sounds and think they are for you and you like it.

You were only happy when you were like five or six and that's it, right.

You think there are enormous amounts of people who love you but just to be sure you don't talk to any.

You have weapon vocabulary.

You have weapon vocabulary but fingers too weak to work each weapon.

You are anorexic.

You starve yourself for days and then hallucinate.

You look at me if you think I won’t be looking.