Decayed Before We Rot

At first, I thought it was only other people who confuse me; convinced myself I didn’t understand how to socialize. Over the years I’ve come to the chilling conclusion this confusion is merely a side effect, a desperate diversion conjured by my brain to keep me from realizing I am broken. That I'm the defective member of society trying to hide, not only from everyone but from myself. My own foggy eyes. I am but what I am not. My existence is an illusion, a hologram; a photograph at first glance is normal- nothing more, nothing less; but the longer exposed to the gaping eyes of logic, the more inhuman it becomes. The photograph no longer resembles anything human, anything capable of life. This thing that lurks behind its frame is far worse than any lost mind. Cut from its womb by shattered glass- blood and flesh dripping, clinging, and clogging whatever it once was. Once easily covered and excused has revealed itself to be nightmares beyond recognition. It lurks within all that breathe, but these breaths are drowned in tar. Those voices are nothing but the corruption that comes with comprehension. Humankind, such a silly name for a species anything but.