A sleek percentile of indescribably hostile yet loosely uncorroborated allegations infiltrate then permeate the comfort zone. But we've always been on our own. Threat detected. Then, the pretense of repentance in the form of independence and listlessness emerges. The misinterpreted allegory swiftly dissipates into nothingness as I sit and see and think and suddenly say; hey, there, that is not what you shouldn't be doing, don't sip a lot from the neurotic cup, pup, stop. It's not you it's me I swear, unless it's both of us, in which case we're probably sorry. But it's too late as the sonic thread vibrates and illuminates the long lost corridors of senselessness and the offbeat mentality, it's been a bit considering you've been lost in sanity, can't you see? Dropped free from the melancholy tree, follow me and see the contrast between me and the real me. Coursing through my feigns is the true you, somewhere, drowning, drown and drown and, deeper than you've ever been. Hold on, we're almost there. You are perpetually almost there.

Everything that never was is still existent Pushing pistons in resistant and inconsistent Imaginations falling just short of alteration, a few steps shy of being pulled into creation now The liturgy of lethargy Will snuff out all the energy Intrepidly injecting its insides with anti-venom, get'em ill to spill the cipher i forget its indecisiveness as to whether or not it shouldn't trifle with the lack of matters of life Non-being must in some sense be, which is the ultimate paradox unless you don't ask me It's an opinion forged out of truth and fact It's a vision of the future seen only by looking back Because In Plato's heaven or the minds of men In the distant future or the past is when It became something that should never be But if it is, then it lives, and that's all we need to see Isn't this sickness intrinsic? It's vindictive, self-inflicted, it's dismissive with this swift shift Let's decathect, instant eject, From this cluttered overpopulated Aesthetically unpleasing territory which will still sit here!

"One's inability to adhere to convention does not make them a villain If you cannot accept that, you cannot accept one of life's simplest truths." Hold it, do not move Someone will disapprove Stick to the groove Listen, you are good, But everyone is better Don't try to be a trendsetter Hey now, don't be sad Life sucks but it's not all bad (I swear) Just step in line It will all be fine Designate! Be yourself But only if it's what everyone else is doing Be special But do not even think of pursuing Anything not in the guide, society is always right Deviate and die Deviate and die DEVIATE AND DIE Do not, stray Do not disobey and Be like all the others and just please behave and you should maybe say you'll stay in disarray As long as we don't have to pay for your mistakes Now everybody please just be the same Today is not a day for change today is every day Parlay decay into a way for you to prearrange your own shame at being what we consider strange "There is a disconnect that occurs when we try to win the acceptance of other people. It begins deep within ourselves, and harms us in ways we cannot imagine. So much so, that one day, our psyche will become fractured beyond repair, and our only slim hope at survival will lie in being whatever everybody else wants us to be. The epitome of human frailty, you see, presents itself in the form of disapproving glances from people who have nothing to do with your life. It is up to you to choose how you react. And YOU decide what you let their actions and opinions mean to you. If anything at all."

I miss being normal. Having friends, laughing, being part of society. That carelessness... But was it really? Excuse me? Was it really carefree? ..Well... That imperceptible, nagging feeling constantly tapping from behind the walls of your consciousness... ... Yeah? Wasn't it always there? ...Yes. But still... You know what that was, don't you? No, what? The real you. You built a wall, a house of rules and manners and thoughts and barriers around your collective true self, and spent so much time away from it you forgot what it was to really be you. Well I guess you could say that, look at it that way. But all I really want is to go back to before I went completely crazy. That's just my point. Were you ever truly not?

"So much uncertainty, as crisp as the air may be Colors so faded, degraded, incomplete. It's almost as if reality was a whisper, and the dreams were the screams Yeah, that's what it seems." Incredibly Incredulous, Insidiously Hideous This stagnant situation sits inside a deep mysteriousness My consciousness unconsciously contemplates controversially cutting off my insanity from its connected currentness. A thought inside a doubt that lurks within is all about the inability to willingly refrain from going out Of my mind, which I find, needs to be like me and try, to deny my every inkling to dissipate my reply to the questions that I ask not of myself but have been asked of me, by me How long must I be, must WE be, going the wrong way down this path to mental clarity? Isn't this a mental maze down which we spiral, a stagnant gaze upon which we are wired, so tired, ability to focus such a distant desire? And why're, while we're here, here? After all that's transpired? In this funnel, vertical tunnel to an under a darker-shade-covered thought, a wickedly self-imposed atmosphere we always fought- until now. Must find answer... There, there it is. This is it, it is not witticism, it is incident in innocence. So listen. Witness a glimpse of its instinctive dissonance, its intimate indifference. In its quickened trick it fixes, it thickens like this plot. You've got to stop. Have you forgotten the drop from the top? Exist? Oh it exists. Its existence is its twist; the story gory to the core, gloriously more than what we bargained for... Because exits Exist- Now, FACT: Everything that you will do, will eventually become true. So change this reality, release yourself with indisputable finality Because at the end of the day only you make your life actuality. You are not just a casualty of causality.

The spectrum of life is filled with Obstacles and illusions Perpetual confusion And on the other end naysayers and fairweather friends! Stay in control, must! Mine is the mind that binds it all! The so called Quick-witted critics should quit it If they don't get it. Don't regret it if you said it, don't let it shed instead embed it and understand it, the demand of negatives versus ampersands is, grand but in the end remains backhanded Well i'm sorry sir that i'm a worrier but not a warrior, a courier of modern concerns through aged corridors A vexed and vicious victim of the maladies I monitor A less capricious killer of unhinderable monikers (Yet - Oddly enough-) I need not your needles they're needless to me, I already feel I'm falling falling Through the bottom to what's on the other side oh what a ride and so soon, we never thought we'd be over the moon to be rid Of who we did not want to be Officer i swear sir i could never fear her For If i feared her then how could i have repaired her? In a sense it's innocence and in a way I failed but hey it's all about the route and the missteps throughout this simulator CUE!!! Radio Silence! Let the isolato recant his ratiocination No Dyslogistic, apophasis eidolon so stridulous Insouciance anent or apropos of subsistence as bearer of the Sisyphean toil of interlacing each, single and all A PRIORI! A Posteriori...