I don’t have any actual ******* clue who I am anymore. I’m in a constant bizarre. Intro personal fight, to find a friend.reducing my path to anything but me. While at the same time, I illicit a hand to befriend in the upmost fuckedest place a guy can.
It’s like I’m running outta sand. Trying to catch the last grain. In a jar that’s eternally empty.
In my life from birth until,
whoever knows when.
Liberate my last waking breath. I believe in democracy, but this **** man.. it’s a little too overwhelmingly congressional to please my over average sadistically sanctioned peace of.. ****, Where is my mind? But I’m here and present for lack of luck the clock ticks on in gravity’s kingdom of ****

Is hunger driving me ill and cardio vascular insufficiency real, I’d saw a blackness through hunger, as I’ve begun to feel, I’ve turned and run to a meal as the pain was too much to deal. I don’t foresee a change in my future, I’m alive, but can’t tell, my heart palpitates, it’s a broken bell. Ever reminding me of fates long had conclusion. The season finale, where the main character dies or moves away . But I don’t have a town far enough away. I have a ticket to hell and I’ve already paid screaming die to myself, with an imaginary gun on the shelf

permanence, a relief like a drug where the high never stops and the come up never tops. Eternal unknown. But I don’t fear death, as final judgment would only be left to chance. However this life I occupy. Has my body forever in a sunshine hell hoping for a coffin heaven I don’t even believe in

It's what's oppressed to relieve the stress that burns on, I am depressed but falling out of lonely recess. Beginning to see through eyes, I am not alive. Though without these pills, I hide, for a I promise I won't die. But it's these lies that keep me insecure inside. I guess it's just the narcotic in me. What brings out the sicotic envy of our relationship. Save it *****, face me and just relay that nip to you’re hellish pit.

I Write sad things about bad dreams, I lie awake and walk away to the songs of my inner screams. Waltzing dead And Truely it seems as if these dreams are me in the head of a broken man far away from me in actuality, in his own reality. On another galaxy. I want a break this feeling that I'm not awake.