Wake up every day: Can't get out of bed
Feel like I've been chewed up, spit out, and landed on my head.
All the blood rushing through, leaving my mind black and blue
And what I'm left with is feeling helpless, without a single clue.

Try to rise up, but, these sheets are made of glue
My rubber mind bounces my sanity and I'm stuck to thoughts of you
Even though I'm trying to prove I can improve
I'm still stuck in this same ******' place I can't move

As I lay stripped away to my basic DNA
I reflect upon the past wishing only changes for today
But what I learned from the time my heart had me enslaved is that
Working towards tomorrow ***** the life out of today

So, act on true intentions
Don't let dismay be a distraction
Any emotion can kinetically push any dying dream into action
If you're feeling like you're gasping for air in this cold ocean
Just remember that only your own will can preserve your life when...

All the weight that you carried and never bothered showin'
All these lessons you taught yourself, you though aided your growin'
But they just stretched you seven different ways
Leaving you with six more demons that you must face

Now that who you are and who you play finally meet face to face
You can run to lead the race instead of shoving your foot in your face
Self-censorship is what grasps your legs
Keeping you shackled in this dark, dismal, place

Start fresh, I'll use resentment for the best
Remove the weights that held me down, revealing the hole in my chest
I stagger to the bathroom just to make sure,
That all these trials that I have endured

Haven't changed how I appear, as I gaze into the mirror
I realize that the real lie is that I was ever here
Great job, you finally managed to face your fears
Now, let's see how you do against a jury of your peers

My judge holds me in contempt again
No attorney can defend my end
When the time comes for my plea I'll say: "It was anything but innocent"
But, I surely did it with no intent
I never gave myself consent
To hide behind these masks that turned me into my own deadly sins

Now I lay here with no breath
Facing almost certain death
Licked by the flames of my forged hell, with no peace, I will not rest
Until I climb out of this pit
And I finally forget
That I ever had the urge to toss my towel and forfeit
**Don't Quit.
Forget.
Forgive.
Live.

My warm breath ricochets off the surface in front of me, back onto the skin of my jowls.  I see darkness, but within that darkness, an infinite amount of possibilities.  I'm on the road, the warm summer air is heating the cool frames of my sunglasses as I travel to somewhere far away.  Destination unknown, just traveling, always traveling.  Every time I take a different path with fluctuating experiences, utilizing varying transportation methods.  I begin to float, but I am not actually moving.  It is as if the ground beneath me is simply sinking away.  The wind picks up, the sun sets as the moon lapses into being, and suddenly, I am above a city.  The bright ambient lights are off-setting at first , but I grow used to them quickly. The cacophony of car horns, metallic scraping, pounding footsteps, and atrocities being committed complete the atmosphere. Sometimes I am that atrocity.  I soar down to the streets below and my ankles absorb the shock of the landing.  It's never as painful as one would anticipate. I wander through the dark alleys, dragging my hand across the damp, rigid, bricks.  I hear whispers from the walls telling me where to go next.  I have a calling, a civil duty to uphold.  The collective conscious of the city is screaming to me, asking me to do what they do not have the courage to do.  After the deed is done I melt back into the shadows from whence I came, and wait patiently for the next task.  With no warning and no control I transcend to another setting.  I move on to another life, with no recollection of the past world.
I am five years old.  I stare up at an amusement park, bewildered by all that is going on around me. The noisy gears of the machines grind and whir, drowned out only by the carnival medleys shrieking from the loud speakers implanted in the various coasters and carousels.  It is too much to take in at once and I begin to feel anxious, something does not seem right.  A sense of familiarity kicks in, but never has anything so familiar felt so uncanny.  Swarms of people flash by as though they are images imprinted on film reeling swiftly through a projector. Amongst the multitude of scurrying figures, one woman stands still, like a figurine mounted inside a snow globe surrounded by thousands of  free falling flakes. She turns to face me, and as I stare into the pale blue puddles of her eyes, I begin to weep. Electric impulses speed through my nervous system, my vision blurs, heart skips a beat. They're letting me know that somewhere, somewhere else, a bell is ringing.  I feel the breath again and there is a blinding light.  An orchestra of zippers, Velcro, and papers crumpling reverberates against the cold cement walls.  Not completely aware of what's going on, I follow the crowd and scuffle through the corridors, my footsteps acting as a sort of metronome against the linoleum floors. It is then that I am finally aware of where I am. I am back in the real world, back in the school, out of the comfort of my dreams.  My destination in this world is predicable, the journey  not so immense, nor as intriguing.  My legs begin to tingle as the blood rushes back into the tired muscles.  The woman from my dreams is now just a pale shadow in the banks of my memory.  
While the environments of my imagination tend to differ, there is  a catalogue of fairly constant variables.  There is usually the girl.  Not always the same girl in a  physical sense, but one that provokes the same types of feeling whether she's there or she's missing.  Except for this one.  This one always leaves an ominous, almost haunting, feeling.  She is not visually disconcerting.  It is not her sandy-blonde hair, porcelain skin, or even her murky blue eyes that frighten me, but rather the way she looks at me with them.  Her eyes cry for help that I can not provide, and it seems that she knows this, and for that she resents me.  I have no knowledge of who this woman is, or what she is meant to symbolize, but she makes my blood run cold.

All my friends are fictional. Anyone who can come close to understanding me is black ink on paper...or, I suppose, a screen. The words seem to be extracted from my own mind, and in some sense, they are, or at least the meaning I've given to them. I think the author and I would get along, but of course, I'll never know. Provoke the melancholy, poke the sleeping bear.  Look up into the air and wonder "Why?". "Why everything? Why anything? Why do I keep asking why? Why do I waste my time with empty questions?". Some of my friends are sound waves.  I think I would get along with the vocalist, or even, the guitarist. Not the drummer though. Never got along with drummers too well.  I listen, as they speak to me in a foreign, yet, familiar language.  A sort of tounges, a melodic pig-latin. A nearly dying, or, freshly dead language. A corpse comprised of chords.  I think, "They must be just like me. They understand how asinine of an existence us humans have".  But, I'll never really know.  A painting or a picture that I often let my eyes visit is my longest, dearest, friend.  With strokes and lines in colors that surround me and embrace me with their vivid visual prowess as a sort of pet.  A silent friend. A friend whose company alone is enough to warm me.  And I think, "Wow, I wish I could make things like that. I wish I could speak without words and without fear".  And then I meet the artist, or at least, read his or her statement, and realize that the speech intended to be delivered was something else entirely, and usually not achieved without enduring his or her own self-projected labrynth filled with pits of fear and dead-ends. And I realize that I can make things like that, that ultimately. I just did.  By creating the meaning that I thought was their intention, I drew my own maze, all that's missing, is the courage to endure it.  And I think, "Wow, what a lonely sad soul that artist must be.  No one will understand what they are trying to say the first time around.  They will constantly be frustrated with the mundane experience of incessantly repeating themselves.  They will make enemies out of the very things they once loved.  They will isolate themselves from those who may have given them everything they wanted."

Round and round the wheel’s spun
Here and there your time has come
In and out your lights have gone
Out and about to forget what’s going on
Scream and shout into the barrel of your gun
Come on you *****, you can’t do this wrong
Walkin out don’t seem so hard now

Easy going’s a myth that’s over preached, that’s my ******* problem...
Or maybe it’s that I depend on other people to solve them.

I’ve broken all the legs on which I used to stand
No more shoulders to cry on, and no one holding my hand
I fall, I cry, I swear, I’ve tried, no matter what I do, I’m just barely getting by.
I’m tired ofliving life one day at a time, fighting every day in order to survive.
I have to make it on my own.

Order’s tall, without law, just a lie.
Time just flies by, we fall in love alone and knock the hourglass on its side.


I’m staring down the medicine cabinet menu trying to pick the perfect dish.
I'm done playing dumb, matter of fact, I'm just plain done.
I’ve given you more chances than losing the lottery hon’
So zip your lips, you should be used to it, the silence is what tore us apart to begin with
Zip your lips, take your trip, and figure out how to make the pieces fit.

This guilt in my head and this weight on my back is making me crawl past the finish line and
Into another trap, Each time that I pass, I’m still behind another lap.

They say I think too much and then I lose touch.
It’s either stay on the couch or lean on a crutch.
My life revolves around daily brain damages.
They say the best things can only come out of the darkest passages.
Lather, rinse, repeat the cycle, I’d rather not cheat and compete with these savages.

You’re nothing I haven’t seen before, the fact of the matter is
We are all just someone else’s recycled garbage

I’m sick of livin’ every day with one foot bout to step into another’s grave.
I’m too tired to keep hold of these stagecoach reigns, how the hell am I to conduct 12 runaway trains?
Don’t tell me to watch out when you yourself don’t have an ounce of strength
Depending on pretending that tomorrow will be a brighter day
The grass is never greener, get off my ***, and stay out  my way
Head to head, face to face, fight and compete to defend your title belt of last place

I can’t wait for the day that nothing feels the same as every yesterday until then I’ll just repeat and repeat all the things that I hate. 

 
I am the angel and the devil atop your shoulders.
I give and I take in the eye of the beholder.
I bend and I shake, each breath, sharper and shorter.
No start, no stop, just endless disorder.


Growing up just means that you’re getting older
The dark is getting lighter, and each day is feeling colder.

How absurd are the streets of this wretched city?
Common sense is a rarity to those who beg all for their pity.
Mercy me, oh I admit defeat, I was born to fail at making ends meet.
The scraps and the bones, the trashed and the filthy.
I’ll live on the edge attempting to make this home a reality.
But there’s no room in any ******* realty
For a man who contributes nothing incessantly,
Yet, continues to **** dry every hand that tries to feed.

Maybe there's something in the medicine cabinet that can set me free
Oh, why do I turn to the medicine cabinet every time I want something to eat?

It’s kickin' in now, I’m seeing things a lot clearer now that it's just about over.
Stranded at the crossroads, I made a deal that cost me two souls, one of which, I am not responsible for.
So, still my flawed remains stand there with no closure,
I signed the line and sold my time.
Now the best thing I can do is become an ***** donor.

Lesson learned a bit late, a penny shy, now the world’s a buck shorter
All you’ve left behind are half-written songs full of spite on your Dad’s old tape recorder

From everyone here at the daily grind news team, to those who shout biased headlines with ******* Meanings, we hope you have fun while it lasts, your shows cancelled next quarter.
This concludes our report on young lives growing shorter.
Before we sign off, here’s the final say from our most admonishing reporter:

You have no idea what it means to have something to scream about.
You’ve spent your whole life never shutting your ******* mouth
Tell me what you think of me, don’t tell your friends on the internet
You’ve bitten more than you can chew this time, no more free rides, it's time that you pay your rent.
If you're not the lord of this land,  then I'll be the one to decide how the rest of your life is spent.

You can start by choking on your pride as you attempt to swallow all your miserable times and past Regrets. Pay close attention, this is the last warning you’ll get.

"If you don’t have it figured out by the time you’re 21 then you're part of the plan that snuffs itself out.
Hopefully they’ll drown themselves in liquor just like their fathers did, just like your dad is doing", that ******* said to me as he lifted his watered-down poor man's scotch to his cracked reptilian lips.  One more thing I get to internalize. One more swing I have to restrain my ligaments from hurling. Don't let him see you sweat.


“Do you think that to be wise?”, I croaked.

“No, I don’t think it to be anything, and I believe that’s why I love it more than all the wisdom in the world”. What a ******' *******. "Look, I only know I am right because of how often I’ve been wrong" What an infallable argument.

"Look, you can only hope to do things that you don't understand, the only way to do the things you wish to do as you want to do them is to understand.  The only way to understand, is to learn.  Not to be taught, but to be learned.  The only way to learn is by doing.  Going into a new situation blind without any information is not a desired way to start a task.  Researching is the key to removing frustrations that may prevent you from persisting with your original intentions".

If this ******* tells me how to write one more time, I swear, I'll lobotomize the whole operation.

I am a man, Man was created by God
Jesus was God as a man, Jesus was a man
Man was a creation of god made to create(in his image)
Matter was created from light, Man is matter, God is light
I am matter that looks like other matter, but man created better and worse
God created man, man created better and worse, Dissagreeance was created
Opinions were formed followed by emotions, love, hate, fear, pride, envy,and so on (and emotions have much to do with sin)
I formed opinion, Which split me into the different layers or pieces of me, and emotions ran the show
I started seeing similarities instead of differences, which began to piece me back together, I remembered that we are all the same
We are all matter reflecting light, all different kinds of light, that look like other lights, and are too distracted to remember why we live
We were created in the image of our creator which means we live to create
I am made of light, all light is the same, we were created by light, we created ourselves
Man was created, man creates new men, We are our creators
God is Man's creator, Man is Matter, Matter is Light, Man is Light, I am Man, God is Light, I am God.
I am God, You are God, He is God, She is God, We are God, Trees are God, Rocks are God, Sun is God, Water is God, Lightning is God
People try to find God, People say they've found God,  God is in all of us they say, in our hearts
We have technology to peruse every inch of the human body, even at molecular levels, yet no one has ever come across God inside a Man
I think it's safe to say that we are most definitely inside of him, screaming and crying and pleading and clawing.
At times it seems God is doing a worse job than...or used to do a better job when...
People resent God, people blame God, people question God

All the things we ask of God we are asking of ourselves
If it seems that He hasn't been around, you must be doing things out of your comfort zone
If it seems he doesn't hear your prayers, then start listening to yourself
If it seems he doesn't care, then take your own advice
You're on your own with nothing but God on your side
You're one sided if you live for God
The more you devote yourself to God, the further away you are from achieving salvation
Be God, Make yourself proud, Create and share things with others, and appreciate the creations of man, for you are responsible for the creation of Man.

Open face of demonstration, demanding a new declaration
by excreting exclamations to explain to them
that there is no place for them to lay their head.

You want to erase them, and just replace them again
with a new generation that will provide the revelation
that will spark the alleviation of the victims of trade that had been played by those trained
to wrap chains around them, no longer locked to the ground but running in place nonetheless,
circling around at whatever pace has been set.

Playing house in the devil’s play-set.  
Always alluding to what you wanna play next.  
It’s time to resign from the contract you signed, pay all of the cancellation fines,
so you can start your own design.

The one that makes you inclined to put time into that
which will impact the things that you blame for losing your mind.
The things, you complain, are a waste of your time,
While you sit around and just hate and drink up a glass of whine.  

Open innovation can transform into inspirational collaboration,
which will then send out invitations to the world
to take their own aboriginal exploration which would in turn destroy all awol nations,
thus, breaking the boundaries of potential imagination.