These dull moments, when you wake up with a tired voice
You've done all you can but can't grasp the concept of an individual's choice
To watch people make mistakes, watch em choose a dark path
Only for them to wake up in a sweat of a cold panic bath...
The drugs must of just hit, is this the sign of an addict?
Their eyes are wide open but nothing is going on upstairs in the attic.
The needle drained all their faith,
The pill washed out their ability,
They thought this hit would knockout their problems, thought the high would bring em to a cloud of tranquility.
Only to gain hostility and instinctively clinch their fist, the fight against wanting more, that pure satisfaction of the cigarette burning on the wrist.

The heart can't stop beating, the room suddenly spins...the eyes are seeing illusions of this monster from within.
Your parents warned you about this, you're suddenly getting flashbacks, of a time when you were innocent an how you'll never get that all back!
You're pulling at your hair, screaming at objects that aren't there! You keep yelling at the sky "Why!? Why is life so unfair!?"
Your breath starts to shorten, the cold chill creeps in from the door you broke open, you think you need more to relax so the bag you start to rip open. Your all alone too, no one is there to be outspoken! Your next decision will leave your family in shattered pieces! Leave all your friends heartbroken!
So you wrap up, let the blood clog, prepared to take one last hit..
Say "this is the only way I'll ever stop feeling like ****!"
The needle goes into your veins..and you just watch the drugs inject slow...
Your eyes slowly close, the air starts to hesitate as it's coming out of your nose.
The reaper starts to come in
As he flys over you only to find a note.

I can't believe, I didn't see the signs! I...(crying) it said *"10 Reasons why I overdosed"

i see you in the silence
and the blanks of
mind. crazy how violence
says more about love
and its power. the contrast
is fading unlike your
eyebrows, and the last
drop of sanity hits the floor.
thoughts of you as
your actual presence,
because your absence has
finished its evanescence.

This is a man,
without change.
This is a man,
alone.
No convictions
to sour his soul.

This is a man,
who sees the tide.
This is a man,
Who is outlaw, brigand
and savior.

He walks a path,
no dusty trail.
He makes a call,
just to gamble.

This is a man,
with no hope
This is a man,
amoral.
No God, No Glory,
just alone.

i always romanticize
those past moments of
what i believe was
untainted happiness
because i am stuck in
the discontent of the
present moment, but
i'm always discontent
in the present moment
because i romanticize
those past moments
of what i believe was
untainted happiness.
i try to take life by the
throat but i don't have
the energy, and i don't
have the energy because i
have been trying to
take life by the throat.

i'm stuck in a cycle.
i am a fallen creature
and no amount of
effort or escape will
ever change the fact
of my dissatisfaction

but maybe i need
to give up and
accept that i am
dissatisfied, then
and maybe then
will i become
satisfied.