my breath

will be as real as ever.

when existance is the realest

truest

illusion,

the most pure lie you will ever encounter

and when we just breath the same air as everyone else

and die just to become part

of the rest of this unblinking world

what is your excuse for breathing?

when so few people can confirm my existance,

and just about no one could tell them who I really am

really

what is this breath

that keeps the muscle beating?

you will wait your whole life only to always realize that they made you

all wrong

that never can you become

anything more.

(than a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy)

my breath remains a bad imitation

coming out of a lung

that serves no other purpose

than keeping me

alive.

living when you could be dying

dying when you could be living.

(because one is not complete without the other)

yesterday, today, and an unknown date .

(edited copyrighted image)

Bandaged Daze.

None of the gas and the trash inside of me crash.

My pain has become a stain, a rash i can't bash.

I just want to throw my guts at the washed wall!

another phase set ablaze is just another stall

for mental death and upcoming rental wretch

and for every little harsh hazard going to fetch

out the empty burnt holes from our human souls.

Its camouflage to the vile pile of mind-made coals.

It feels like I came back bandaged from my head to toe,

But all the cuts on me are healed, ain't nothing to show.

And this is just an illusion, a delusion that I do not want,

But why on earthling's mingling does it haunt and taunt?

i don't recognize all of the world's colours, but I can fake;

And shade in tones for my skin to cover my truth at stake.

They say I don't style a genuine smile through this dirt pile,

But I do tend to pretend that everything is in a normal rile.

Stuck in my own picture, where is the vanishing point?

What's making it exist, where is the banishing point?

It's a portrait, a mirror that breathes, it walks, it talks.

It peeps, it beeps, it weeps, its own madness stalks.

Because I'm stuck in a maze, in an heating haze,

And its ruining my day's flow, a nauseating laze.

I keep running in circles and this feeling will not go,

But I can't figure out exactly why I'm feeling so low.

i don't know what to do with all these feelings and emotions anymore.

i'm wanting to fall down the rocks, bleed and puke more on the shore.

pick me up, pick me up from the found ground in the planet round,

because i'm bound to emptiness felt wind drowned in silent sound.

i don't know what to do with all these feelings and emotions anymore,

so i imagine i'm on a parachute that's falling and heading to the floor.

i flare inside of my boiling red face and my itched eyes are on beware.

so pick me up, pick me up, because i'm in the middle of bare nowhere.

;[signed]