Trick the mind to satisfy.  Replicate the twitch,you're feasting in this ditch.  A dancing room of empty classes, a body of open gashes.  You swear to stop this fevil mistress from getting out.  But your trapped here and can't get out.  

Your lost in your own mess, left to rot.  So plug your teeth in and get ready for a laugh cause nothing simpler should hold you back.  And I know it hurts but the shelves of bottles should not shelter your heart attack.  Keep it steady even for a moment and you'll swear it's forever, but thats a great reaction to visit.

No hesational knots.  Try not to lose your voice or keep yelling to find a peaceful plot.  Your trying to hard to keep it all steady, so much that youre losing trace of all you got.  Trust me and don't waste all your words to figure out what will always linger and be forgot.

I will smash this door open, I just need some space from this closed oven.
A place to finally breathe, and let go of all my skeletons.
A moment in time where nothing considers us its friend.
To be in there true essence, and know how I bless them.
To hold forever in my hands, and i say iam man.
Consumed in shadows, but already know iam saved.
To fight through pain, because Ive always had help in this game.
To see everyone as myself, and not to confuse hate and faith.
Heal this great well of doubt, for their minds are stained and funneled out.
Save them is all I ask, for I too was lost without a forecast.
I will make this journey, because there this no bed to lay me down.

This girl plays with her doll alone.  This room so cold, so faulted with the smell of coal. She lays between the chalk to bring them closer.  Even I can't even tell if this girl whole.  Half of her looks like smoke, disappearing playing hop-scotch on her toes.  She doesn't want to leave this place, like a ghost finding its home.  

Trying hard to not feel anything absent, she setups dinner plates and candles lights, and prays.  Yet her voice has no effect because it to is gone, lost with her soul.  Picture frames of a happy family, now torn and burnt from their home.  The walls ripped away, and doors that locked up dismay.  And the girl still prays, for something to replace the hole.  To go back and not burn alone.  

The air gets heavier, when i go downstairs to find the girl dead far from their hands to hold.  She protected her doll like it was her own.  Unscratched from head to toe.  Taking it feels like stealing, from a mother's womb.  And yet i think will everyone eventually find their way back home.  Or does every child lose it's way finding it's own.  This girl plays with her doll all alone.

Broken wings plagued from forgetful skin.  A mess soon to leave, from sin conceived of distasteful aggression. It multiplies inside, dividing between the lines, as feelings contrive dead from lies. Processed protests and breathless ambitions argue with this continued fate, we choose to make.  So push away the humanity its been ***** by society, clawed and fumigated scared ever last seed, the light that was once held, is now the glass broken inside, were all guilty ****** of our streets, gone to far from what we believe to fight this disease.

haven't written in months so i hope its good lolz xD

I can feel my heart in two places at once, a dividing line of broken fines.  The pain of an existential winter blowing down my spine.  The papercut daydreams that i can't memorize.  Lead me to believe iam just caution tape on the investigation scene. Each cold sunrise leads me to believe i will always be lonely like the trees.  And this bed of bandaids has me disgusing every painful nail coursing through my veins.  

These leisureless habits have me question for right and wrong conditions.  It makes it all easier to say sorry writings on the wall, yet the pen never has enough ink to explain the ending.  I will send no letters, only pieces of forgetton times.  I hope that you pay the fines that hold me to the sorry writings.

Unfasten every safely tight insecurity and crash into a wall of failure, to disguise that you're really not happy.  Delusional glass shattered into ****** open skin a flooded mess of blood and confessional drama queens sin.  Prepared daily to support our difficult decisions with karma tasted burdens.  You're magazine religion makes me sick with all your false information.  

And the papers say you committed ****** once again, addressing that you're accident from behind the fire.  Let someone else take the blame of a narcisstic evocation, so you can continue this game.  While they're all in the hospital defining they're face like yours all the same.  So touch up that skin another ride is going to begin.

Why are you making it seem like you don't exist, are you hoping for a plot twist.  Well thats not going to happen, cuz you were always real in my book.  Someone that i could always talk and write with.  But your running off the page, as if you're not happy with me. Yes i had to end the fantasy, that doesn't mean our ink has to feel erased.  

What you said to me has dried and will never fade, only smear and seem fake from every read.  So whens the ******, cuz this book is only half written, without you, there's nothing left to put in.  Why are you making it seem like you don't exist, are you hoping for a plot twist.  Well thats not going to happen, cuz you were always real in my book.  

What now when the hook is gone, how am i suppose to know how the story ends.  Does it even contain and ending, iam not real in these pages.  Have i smeared the only trace to hint that this never took place.  Shall i burn what was written, and hope that you finish your ending. Maybe then i really would be hidden.