Uncomfortable in my Skin

Fucking punks-foreign spicks-yeah stare you cunt and I'll rip out your eyes.
I'm starting to suffer from my three day dream. I came here to work but the machines conspire against me. The heat. God damn it. The choking odour of stagnant lives. The cold sweat trickles and I know I don't belong. Just a little left to endure but I'm not sure how. I never make it. I am a slave to their world. I don't belong.
Well well well, if this isn't living the dream then I don't know what is. My stomach churns, my hands burn with inexplicable heat. I'm the monster under your bed, lost and tired.
I wish somebody would understand. I wish them sadness and longing. I want to shatter their calm world. Am I the only one that's real?