I blanket my mind
Blurry my view
And nothing but
Fuzzy faces
Fluorescent lights
The hum
Of inane static noise
Envelope my head
Like a shot of Novocain
With the sweet
Sense of distance

Disorientation
Is the only destination
For a world with a compass
Spinning out of control
But to let go
Is to fling into space
Slowly suffocate
And fade away
But the problem is
I
Don't
Care.
Compass
Please fly me
Away from here

Why does everything begin with a.
Question.
Marking the exact point.
In which any event can be traced back to.
They usually end with more questions than.
Answers.
Even in the times that one comes about.
It doesn't seem to be the answer.
Desired.
A race born of arrogance.
As if we have ever truly had the right to pick and choose.
A voice must be heard.
But why must this voice speak at all.
At what point did we bestow relevance to.
Ourselves.

all i want to do
is preach

about how much i don't care

like maybe
if i say it enough times

these idiots might finally believe me

I came to a fork in the road.
I stared at it for a long time.
It stared back, daunting.
Unmoving.
I picked it up and snapped it over my knee.

I decided to not decide.
I used the fork to eat my lunch.
Sitting there -
at a fork in the road.
I ate. And slept.
Refusal.

I refuse to cooperate.

To hear your sob story.
Poor you? How about poor me?
All this venting, letting my patience out
soon warm wise words'll turn cold.
So don't get pissy when i start to shout
another thousand times your tale'll be told.

its all so mad.
eerie even.
truly knowing what it feels like.
to just.
waste away.
watching as the skin turns white as ash.
hearing bones creak like an old oak ship.
sailing its last league.
All the inner workings clash and mangle about.
seize and burn with every blinkless second.
after all the usefulness is emptied from the tanks.
it is left.
not even taken to a final resting place.
just.
left.
not even forgotten.
and as this ship that once carried many.
formed trust.
never faltered.
is now rotten with decay.
a disease of lasting raw hatred.
transmuting this once renown vessel.
into nothing more.
than a distant memory.

I couldn't think of a better blade than you
                     Because you cut so deep
        *You don't leave any trace that whatever you sever even existed