This isn’t profound, really it's profanity.

I’m far from crazy but on the brink of insanity.
I can’t think straight, sometimes, but I can never stop till he stops calling for me.

All of my addictions, yeah they really caught up to me.
Coughin' out what’s written like the words come from God or something.

I don’t know though, really I am lost.


Like in the jungle of my thoughts and the trees keep branching out
and the growth will never stop.
The greenery is beautiful; when it rains it pours.
When it stops raining I start begging him for more,
until I realize the rain is what I need to enjoy the scene.

The seasons are essential in order to dream.