I deserve the whole ******* world
and my circumstances leave me
in trees, waiting to jump
or already crumpled leaves

It is fall in my spring
my choices are always to sit, to sleep
to wait quietly for the opportunities I need
but what ever comes is quick to leave

I feign emotion, like I care
like any of that matters
I only crave excitement and opportunity, really
the reality of existence has me believing
in a fake life

Was anything ever interesting
after the wars or the dead bodies
after the piles of ****** hot beings
after I found myself to be lacking

I'd rather die
I'd rather exalt a dangerous ruler
I'd like to attach myself to danger
I'd like to cause some sort of tremor the heart
of man

Nothing is interesting anymore
Nothing holds my attention
How many times can I read the same story
How many times can I pretend I hold affection
that I am unaffected
that I am sociable
that I care
that I am
that I exist
that I am I
I am not
I am it

I am a fake

I desire change