Hesitation.
Poetic thoughts to merely strangle an
Otherwise undeveloped expression.
Chaos- dripping profusely from an
Endless flow of illusion.
Imagination? Is this real?
But the good is
SO
Good...
Inspiration.
Claw at the temptation to be
Different.
Something else.
Real.
Because maybe then reality
Could actually make some sense.
But still can't get over the thrill
Of existence
Being nonexistent.
Because it's
So ******* good
To feel unreal.
Why should anything matter-
When nothing is affecting
Anything.
But, knowing, knowledge-
That **** is scary.
Because how can anyone know?
Jesus Christ, the "nothingness" just ******* kills me.
The screaming is melting my brain tissues
And inside my head is just
Black, static sick of explaining the
Discomfort in my head.
Sick of rambling cheap obscurities-
Verbally littering on this ****** up planet
One "word" at a time.
Who the hell cares??
Because
No one
Cares.
Ignorance is considered cherrishable
Because we don't have the *****
To accept reality-
At least maybe I'm just weak.
So why does it even matter?
Redundance- it gets so ******* old.
Feel like something fresh-new-breathable
Could expand at least an experience or two.
Yet it gets so catchy to
Rage warfare on one's self.
****, cause the taste
Is exceptionally harsh.
Texture is only an effect based on perception.
Still, everything is in
Retrograde inversion,
Like my old composition homework assignments-
Only less classy,
And without genius direction.
**** the misunderstanding, man.
That **** will mess with your mind.
But I am in love
With hating to feel,
And everything in between and
Opposite that.
And I couldn't explain anything,
To even give you an idea of what its like.