I Am My Own Asylum
Posted August 5, 2008
I am my own asylum... I'd like to find a hole somewhere. I'd like to pick a fight somewhere. This passivness isn't working. I am chaotic, and I'm a mess. I was waiting for the future, when I really want to cease time. I am learning so many things. I am reading people, and I'm not liking what I've seen. 13 minutes. Have you ever created a version of yourself? An equal, but not equal. I have many sides, many attributes. I am who I am, and I am still becoming. I feel like dancing, not your typical get down. I want to dance freely, with no boundaries, no steps. And that is how I want to live. This sky has consumed my soul. Black and White. Grey. Grey is where I hide. I could walk forever, care to join me? Texting is becoming an awful addiction. Swore it wouldn't and using my thumbs to relay a message got the best of me. Milk It. I do not eat. Not anorexia. I just do not think about it, no hunger. My hunger lies with listening to and examining life. Music. And when I do eat, I choose the non-healthiest of foods. Ironic. I am my own asylum... Crazy people aren't crazy. It's pure eccentricity. Psycotics. Hypnotics. I want to hold your hand, yes you. I don't give a fuck if you understand my mind, or accept it. But in some ways I do. A whirpool of confusion. And endless question. This is where I stand, Sit. Lay... Insecure. Unsure. Pass the pipe, pass the pencil. Could you ask for more? I shant. I just want to be statisfied. And satisfication is either diminishing, or just not approaching fast enough.
