Happy Up Here
Rip off this skin and what do you see? A bunch of gears working in rusty conjoinment to mechanicize every movement and every breath. A boy, nay, a man lost to his own missteps and fumblings, fuck I feel sick.
I had dreams once, I had visions. I still have visions, but those are a whole other can of worms. What happened to those dreams? When did I just stop looking at them? What happened to the stories? I still hear them, all these characters in my head screamikng to get out, but I get so ost in other's words I never make any of my own anymore.
I've become a copycat and a leech and it's so disturbing.
I can't MAKE anything anymore. Not friends, not images, not sounds, not words, not hopes.
I can only manufacture fears, to the point that my heart races and my brain hurts, I pace and I pace I just become more and more lost. None of this is making sense, not that I want it to. I just feel the need to say something, even if it means nothing.
I had dreams once, I had visions. I still have visions, but those are a whole other can of worms. What happened to those dreams? When did I just stop looking at them? What happened to the stories? I still hear them, all these characters in my head screamikng to get out, but I get so ost in other's words I never make any of my own anymore.
I've become a copycat and a leech and it's so disturbing.
I can't MAKE anything anymore. Not friends, not images, not sounds, not words, not hopes.
I can only manufacture fears, to the point that my heart races and my brain hurts, I pace and I pace I just become more and more lost. None of this is making sense, not that I want it to. I just feel the need to say something, even if it means nothing.