Jesus Christ

Oh the thrill of it all, like finding a needle in a haystack; I'm grabbing empty air and holding to it like a prize. I apologize for it to be wiped off the shoulder and swept to the trash. There's people shouting shouting shouting outside, I'm looking out and I know I'm not a part of this. I realize now how badly I wanted to feel alive but when life takes a stab I miss the anesthetics of not feeling at all. But I love this path and the aesthetics of everything is pouring out in front of me, almost becoming too much to handle but I enjoy the challenge. Of course I'll constantly work on the process of finding the right words for everything. These scraped knees and round eyes aren't getting me anywhere, I guess I'll have to push farther.

Dotted lines, dotted lines, dotted lines you're running through my mind every day and I love you and all; but you're just a song who needs to mute.