you stare into the empty sky,
move as a spaceship into intergalactic space
on the same path your ride has been taking for times immemorial,
not the same vectors, never the same coordinates
you remain clueless still
you have tried everything, yet remain inconsequential, uninspired
the emptiness of your mind trying to find a reason, a motivation
whoever said an idle-mind is a devil's workshop
it is demonic by its own merit,
Confusion is even better
when your only objective is to survive, get noticed,
you tend to lose focus,
you pretend, you enact, try to inculcate characteristics of other people,
oh yes there was an inspiration for this flow of thought,
howl! howl! howl!
you want to strain., yet you rather sleep,
you want to be exhausted, and u realise you already are
so difficult to move a limb, without frowning at the prospect of change
its so easy to just have it all there with you
its so easy to pretend and convince
In there lies an aptitude of mine i need to recognize someday
you have amnesia of things you know , that you know.
frustrating to carry on,
painful to maintain,
what is wrong?
the answer lies in realising what is right!
they are not always opposites
unfortunately opposites don't attract all the time, if they did,
this previous line wouldnt exist.
sex, violence, luxury .
i never had a consistent pattern of being
what about this consistency then, in the aforementioned lines?
not that... but yes including them and much more
who does?
but i need it.
i have always always just walked through stuff... pretending to work hard with the loudness of my existence
easy to convince, there is always a way
but so fucking difficult to do it to your own self
here i am , destroying the one the one thing i might still have intact
my health, Blowing it away into the smoke of oblivion
I want something new, something different, something cool, somebody's attention
many'body's attention
want it all, and want none
had plans always, stumbled though to put one into practice the way it was conceived
want colors, want to become someone, i don't know who or what
is it still me
yes i guess...
its just dawned upon me; my inconsequential survival,
attested by the starry skies
its always the way i talk.
trying to fit in
doesn't always work
becomes frustrating
emulating the different aspects of the 'reel' world
when do i leave
when do i return
when do i start being what i may love to be
these plaguing thoughts immerse me into a sea which is so calm that you almost don't want to make an effort to even float
i like to reason, to defend myself
muster all my IQ to conjure or to recollect precedents
was i too late to be born
some people are said to have had thoughts much ahead of their time
i have thoughts which are prehistoric
i should have been born during the age of discovery, the raw unformed period of human history
i should live , live long and an able life,
to do stuff, i might want to do, i might have thought of doing
i need my childhood, i need to remember it, try to find myself in that process,
try to find where it went wrong
or is it
is it too late
corny corny blah blah typical blah blah fuck my vocabulary
stereotype full stop
