There are these dark places I crawl down and curl up into.
They twist and turn themselves inside of me.
Bond with my veins until they are me.
They are who I am, the stink of them in my flesh
A rotting haunting reminder of how everything feels wrong
The seasons change from darker to darkest
Every shade of grey fills me up and spills out of every piece of me.
I hurt and fester and break into shattered glass.
Who am I? I wish I knew like I used to know.
I don't look at myself in the mirror anymore.
I casually lie about things, and the truth is somewhere mixed up in the stupidity
Do I hate what I've become? I don't think that's what it is really
I hate what I have been most recently, and I know what I want to be. And I know most of all how trivial this all is.
That is the worst part, It doesn't even matter. I've become some paint on the wall,
I'm a hollow place
I'm a cesspool of forgetting
I'm a cut on my wrist, I'm a tepid reality. I'm crazy and wish I knew was wrong with me.
I'm a figment of my own imagination.
All I know is how empty I am. I hate the part that I'm playing in my own life.
I'm an easy going one night stand. Cheap and meaningless. Everything is just so raw and meaningless.
I talk too much to fill up the emptiness inside me. I'm the dirt and the failure.
I'm the stupidity and the foolishness. I am the jester.
I'm the shallow hopeful fool. I'm the vapid morbid truth. I'm the atheist.
I wish it wasn't, but God and Ego are synonymous.
Any spirituality or meaning is self manufactured.
If I can just make it to graduation. If I can just make it that far. . .
