001 I don't want to face the music, numb to the sound that life makes, everyday i'm getting dressed in the dark. To walk into public with stares of confliction from passerbys wondering if I had looked in the mirror before leaving the house. If I would've remembered why I had even gone out today, my outing might have been even worse. Judgment call's cues to a deaf day dreamer lost in contemplation and laughs. Insanity be a gift tonight for reality makes me cringe in the worst of ways. 002 Finally i'm having a good time. Rest assured, now that i'm fine, it wont be long before I ask why. No answers even quell my shivered ears, nostalgically lost in pain. With what remains of myself, day after day, inquisition leaves me staring back with rose colored glasses at the days when I was clinically insane. These real-life priorities are running laps around me faster than I can plan my day. Overwhelmed with indecision to the brink of inaction, laughing at the fact that apathy is in fashion. 003 Looks can be a costume, gating the serpents seething. Sitcoming to mask myself would leave me feeling like a vacant borded up home. Although the temptation leaves me dreaming. Vanity like a leather belt, reminiscent of consentual punishment, with time invested rewarding the deeper the welts. Often what my eyes tell me is that what you have is what I lack and that what you lack is what I have, but we don't always hold this truth ourselves, the idea leaves us fiending. In conversation, under the surface, while the cracks portrude another mask is sewn. Silencing authenticity because the ego does not condone. 004 Momentarily I await, living to find proof of existance among the grave bodies distilled in digitized youth. Silent waiting rooms looking up amongst the fiendish eyes beset on the device devised to routinize the rest with no proof of detest. 005 My own personal bias occupues the mindlessness of the seconds idle in the day. When un-noticed, direction has lost focus, monochrome lenses dial in my self-preserved misery. Confirming the delusionment in my head, the cause for dread and the confusion in-between. Thoughts can weave a prision cell for myself with the snares and tisks they make. Even when contrary thought seems a rational truth, it never seems enough on days like today, to quiet the illusion. 006 What legitimizes belonging anymore? Comradare is just a selfie taken to annoite a status update. Is this just an illusion as a product of self deception? To my perception it appears as haunting as it sounds. I've otherized myself to the brink of social danger, looking around and wondering to myself if social norms could evolve to be any stranger. Currently apathetic to the notion of understanding and adapting. Retracting with my sociability, is also my desire to keep up apperences. Equivically my sanity appears to be rotting in moments of the day. The confusion has me shattered although I'd rather be flattered by my own idea of belonging, than accepting the new notion of kinship. I won't follow you until you like me nor literally or figuratively. Finding humor in the annoyance in solidarity is a day I would rejoice to see. 007 Monuments rooted institutionally in objective frame, unmoved by mortal memory of whats been and come, only in my mind lives a backdrop of my discomposure. A carcass of a previous vessel unaware that a future self would ruminate the scene. The past is just the past tense of now, and dread arouses me whenever I come back to this town. This place is just a place that knows no context or setting, regretting i'm driving by, torture is progressing, thoughts repressing, I'm digressing. Everyday speak is masked with memories of when, partitioning myself consequentially to subsist, prepared for unknown outcome, language is costumed and I'm out of tounge. Participating in reality again, I stand and refuse to climb the rungs, to my detriment or benefit. 008 Put me to sleep and tuck me in, where the woes of the world can finally rest, be as it is without no contest. I'm simply wasting away, while building a nest to hide away for only today, and maybe tomorrow. I'm nothing without my sorrow. I think to myself, as I anticipate tomorrow. 009 Happiness and sunlight seem regimented, in a day when theres nothing comfortable. Where conformity shatters the definition of beauty, and where all advances in self become vain to the rest of the world. Yet we crawl to compete daily, unconventionality prompts disquist in the eyes of those that have it easy. As it is, one way to describe the disposition of the blind leading the blind to an everlasting backwards notion of contentment and flying freely. An arch enemy of mine is the pleasantries shared daily amongst the world. The way to survive is to accept the saturated society as a threat, crafting a self preserved armory against its helm. Leaves one desolately searching for kin amidst the dreary reality of the last act of proposed consciousness. Flooded with the digital tidal wave, most will sit and folly, until all is lost in a wasteland, of mindless laughs and jollies. 010 If your presence doesn't benefit them, search of an anomaly instead, desolate at times, does it even matter? Everyone omits the same slang costumed in matching variation, familiar strangers who know my name, static relations without explanation. Life's purpose is meeting the status quo, for most of whom all I know tip-toe off the surface, off the grid you go. What is left to prove, to those who see my irrelevance? Why do I even care when being liked is a game I do not wish to play? Although, I'd like you, if only you weren't this way. To which you probably mutually agree, in regaurd to the likes of me. 011 Occasionally, good feelings reep rewards, of paranoia in extremes. Wanting the feeling to end because I'm convinced its a joke. I struggle to understand it, so I worry it away. Its deamed to be a danger, my bones now beging for a feeling I understand. Althought all I've ever wanted is currently where I am. Unbecoming in the process of finding out when I get to stand and face my tragedy and look it in the eye and smile instead of cry. 012 Am I regressing in the worst of ways? Or could this be a series of a string of bad days? I wake up daily to the dillusion that everyone has already given up. Hope and future seems invisable with every second feeling like the time is up. Concussed at times, feeling so behind, blinded and wishing to resign. Excuse me while I step forward, into a life I wasn't assigned. Fear nesting in my bones I don't know where I'm going but it wont be what I've always called home. 013 Pre-emptively declaring disaster, planning out my demise. Working twice as hard to make sure my suffering recieves an applause. Just a thought, its wack to think we all avoid to display our suffering and make belive perfection. Afraid to be authentic so we throw time away. No profound words, just a simple observation, documented in time today for later reconcilliation. 014 I am bothered. I see that you're not. I dissapeared slower the more that I fought. For long enough, Strangers are who I blamed when it was my own mind causing the pain. You were my reflection, and the scorn when its internal, burned and bleeding through your eyes. Snickering glances and vacant sighs, entered my body and remained for the day. As I resorted to concluding, it will always be this way.