Forever forsaken to the blind rage that is quiet depression. Suffering in silence, wanting to speak but forever trapped in the fear that this feeling of lonesome and depression is becoming a severe obsession. Constantly questioning sanity because words and thoughts SEEM to not make sense and SEEM unclear. Spaces in my brain filled by forever haunting memories, and drowning in the missing details of mixed signals and ununderstood words. We swim laps in the same swinning pool of dreams abs memories. You continue to swim but i slowly drown and sink in the bottom. Sinking in the botton of an empty liquor bottle which is joined by a mixture of unknown pills to **** the pain. Not just to **** the pain but also to **** the strain, and quite often to **** away. (Did you catch that, nope probably not) INSANE. Insane like the lines, ropes, and strings that entangle thoughts abd wrap confusion in the open arms od my brain. To quote the words of B.E., books dont make sense if you read them backwards. You'll single out the wrong words. Like you mishear all my songs. Those are not my words, yet, I understand so well that its like a segment of thought blindly retracted from the deepest parts of my brain.