Have you ever had an enduring dream about a person you hate?
Isn't it just the absolute worst?
You remember them like you're together, out on a date.
But it's horrible and you just feel so overwhelmingly sad.
You get wrapped up in them for a couple moments and it all seems okay.
But the pain flushes through. It pervades.
You remember every horrible thing about them that hasn't happened yet.
And you can't bring yourself to stop.
You can't make yourself break away from them.
And then they set you off. They tell you they're concerned because you're just standing around in the middle of the plaza breaking down for each and every time they hurt you all at once and they have the nerve to ask you if you're okay and you can't scream at them like you want to and tell them how ****** up you are now that they sought personally to your destruction as a happy person with goals and dreams and ambitions and every second that goes by you don't know whether to punch them or kiss them and you just want it all to end so you never have to go to sleep again.
And then you wake up with a fresh reminder of why you hate your life and always feel so alone. And the harsh reality that you can never make up AND settle your score.
And the possibility that neither will happen.
And the fact that you will always be damaged in some way.

I really hate love.

If I had the moon, I'd give you the stars.
An option, I think not.
I love who you are.

The endless, the empty,
The long nights, no sleep.
What I sowed, did I reap?

I'd tell you it's simple, it's never that hard
It becomes what you make it
You hold every card.

Sometimes it was your voice, sometimes the eyes.
Or how pretty you are smiling.
You were never boring.

I can't write this anymore..

Innocent, happy, free.  Innocent, happy, free.  Innocent, happy, free.

I will move mountains or die trying.

The vex of the volunteer
How keen an eye can see
You want it, so do I
I won't ask for it
Neither will you
Stubborn to the death, the both of us
We're complete morons
So obviously secretly intimate
So obliviously insightful
If only it were a simpler thing
This dying love from across the room

I must have deleted this very line a thousand times.
My thoughts just keep racing, you see?
I really can't stop it.
I can only hope that whatever spews out is worth writing down.
It's not completely chaotic.
It is directed by a particular condition.
It's like a combination of broken-heart-disease and anxiety-virus.
I should be happy right now.
But I'm not.
I should also be asleep.
That's not happening either.
But I've got a bag full of sunshine.
At least in that world I'll find some peace.
I know it's not exactly a positive thing.
To everyone else.
But I like it.
Things like that, they make me feel free.
You can call it escapism if you want.
But aren't you running too?

Breaking free, cunning ruse
Established to free us from the truth
Can we see? Or is sight blind?
Will we forgo what is left behind?
Can one go back? Can it be undone?
If we're scared can we turn and run?
Which is our reality?
Fighting figment fantasy?
Is it cold and dull and stark?
Til death do leave his mark
Or is it bright, colorful, and pure
Derived by thoughts
The wills of the strong
Control our fate
Sing your swan song
When the end is near
We could be free
When truth stands alone
For once, it might be easy.

You have connections; friends in high places.
You have money and security.
You even have training.
What do I have, you ask?
I have an indomitable will.
I have the cards you need to win in my hand.
I have a mind that puts me two steps ahead of you.
What does it matter?
It means that I'm going to outsmart you.
It means that I'm going to win.
But most importantly, it means that you're going to lose.
Come at me with everything you have.
You will lose it all.
I no longer fear you.
You have lost that control over me.
I am stronger than you now.
And I will not back down.
So send your wrath, but be warned.
I will send mine back.
Ten times stronger than you think you are.

A ticking clock that twists the hours around.
An eternity passes with each second.
No longer trapped in the box with five holes.
In the same room, but millions of miles away.
Emptiness and alone.
Is it real? Or is the box real?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
No matter the case, the box is still there.
Still trapped, peeking out of those holes.
It begins again.
Death til but a tick.
What say you, friend?
That the realm of unconscious thought is real?
Perhaps even more so than that stark world of awareness.
Free at night; a slave by day.
Bound by that ticking clock to a rigid schedule of torment and relief.
Does it ever cease?