I'm tired of faking this confidence.
People living with no consequence.
A pending self-destruct sequence.
It's all becoming way too frequent.
What is it that you think you see?
Some existential fantasy?
I'm overly obsessed with mortality.
It's already got the best of me.
I'm so pretty til no ones awake;
playing slideshows of my mistakes
The spiritual bullshit seems so fake;
when it's the victims life at stake.
Who's really innocent of the sin?
We all have a nasty vice we let win.
Hands are shaking out of his skin,
I can't look at him like this again.
It's so much easier to cry defeat;
staring at my phone In the backseat.
I can make the whole world obsolete;
keeping myself ignorantly incomplete.
There's a sick need for instant gratification;
Skipping love for ejaculation.
Technology brings modification;
No need to find my inspiration.
It seems I only find it in times of rage;
any other days it's just a blank page.
Resistance takes center stage;
forever a slave to minimum wage.
I spend nights looking for constellations;
something to bring peace to this desperation.
Living in a state of isolation;
Life is so simple in my imagination..