Anger is roiling inside my head and it’s all a fault to steer sociopath’s eyes all over me; judgmental eyes – these robot eyes in particular are bent on straightening me up because my natural tendency is to slack and let it bend and bleed to a silly putty-chunk of flesh – myriad structural pink.
Yay, helpful robotic piston driven brace of all that’s holy isn’t about to let me lead my life. Oil driven and pummeled with looks of little-man, dummy and pork chop. These eyes are all over me when I go somewhere outside and I appreciate that, keeping me in line.
One’s trying to tell me what to do and the other just keeps me from myself. I resist as I ought to, a slave to the contrary.
I’m sore. These eyes are all over me and my helpful robotic piston self.