It is not to think, as much as to shape this process i have made of silence.

Hush now.

It can never be okay, and the illusion is in your need to relate, because you correlated once, but it will never be the same.

It is chasing dragons for the same fate that you strayed from.

Its rubber bands, and band-aids for the game.

Check mate.

Check your mates for tics.

It is whats inside that itches for escape.

It is the day to day lies displayed from your hate.

Its whatever the ******* place your mind in.

Be this way, go that way, get out of the way, just stay ..

Right there

In yesterday, but i am late, and dreaming of the place i belong.

If seeing is believing than it shouldn't be too long.

Visualizing the realizing of what wouldn't have gone over so well, before the crash that befell my Orwellian signal from a well, wished for a hell dismissed in simple mindedness.

I am still unsure if it is a death wish, or a romantic kiss in the darkness, i inflict, as its burnt out of moonlit dominance in a prominence that smashed on the hull of my ship, full of not giving a ****, as the light shifts around my presence.

My open hand is out but the other grips the severance package, of the stacking junk mail.

Dispel the formal, and embrace your former self, in unblinded wealth, accepting what you always felt, for the first time.

It is all ******* gone, and its mine.

All mine.

Standing on the corpses of my kind, i cry..

In happiness.

Its nothing.

I am one of many.

Gone.