Struggling with life.
Trying to maintain anonymity.
Reaching irrational conclusions.
Living an ineffectual life.
Blasting music to cure my symptoms.
Being distant from the fantasy parade.
Lodged in a screaming inferno.
Passing through the monotonous woe.
Wondering, When did it all start?
The ticking of the metronome.
The mindless aggressions of my conditioned perceptions.
Demons, invading my independence.
Sometimes I think how I became this.
Maybe I just wanted to survive the catastrophe.
Survive from my losses.
Survive from my monsters.
Survive from myself.
Now, I think maybe life isn’t all about living.
It is just about Survival.