Captain.Heroin
Bluelight Crew
For the majority of my adult life, if you'd call it that
I lived in a hell for a continuous FIVE MILLION MINUTES.
Watch the second hand of your clock. Watch.
It will more 60 Times. And imagine being hopelessly depressed, catatonic, despondent, dissociated, seemingly worse than dead for FIVE MILLION MINUTES.
I have, in those FIVE MILLION MINUTES
I have had over TEN THOUSAND panic attacks.
and that's only averaging a conservative estimate of
THREE EACH DAY.
I wish I could die there times a day instead.
It would be alleviating to my fragmented, fictitious soul.
It would be refreshing to come to something, ANYTHING,
that I haven't seen thousands of times before.
Imagine how cemented my instincts are.
Imagine how GOD has tired of this one of am infinite number of bodies and minds
Imagine how I am but a brick of NOTHING in a wall of what you perceive to be everything but is actually a giant and boundless illusion.
This illusion has become a living nightmare
This living nightmare is continually bringing about
An endless impulse to escape these frail senses
Half the time I'm not even half way plugged in
Half the time half of me is obsessed with the
REAL WORLD
The one where nothing changes, the one where we all
Come to a conglomeration, the one I see on white walls,
The one I see fading through; BLEEDING
Through to stain the FAKE AND FRAIL "WORLD"
AND IT'S NOT REAL AND NEVER WILL BE!
I lived in a hell for a continuous FIVE MILLION MINUTES.
Watch the second hand of your clock. Watch.
It will more 60 Times. And imagine being hopelessly depressed, catatonic, despondent, dissociated, seemingly worse than dead for FIVE MILLION MINUTES.
I have, in those FIVE MILLION MINUTES
I have had over TEN THOUSAND panic attacks.
and that's only averaging a conservative estimate of
THREE EACH DAY.
I wish I could die there times a day instead.
It would be alleviating to my fragmented, fictitious soul.
It would be refreshing to come to something, ANYTHING,
that I haven't seen thousands of times before.
Imagine how cemented my instincts are.
Imagine how GOD has tired of this one of am infinite number of bodies and minds
Imagine how I am but a brick of NOTHING in a wall of what you perceive to be everything but is actually a giant and boundless illusion.
This illusion has become a living nightmare
This living nightmare is continually bringing about
An endless impulse to escape these frail senses
Half the time I'm not even half way plugged in
Half the time half of me is obsessed with the
REAL WORLD
The one where nothing changes, the one where we all
Come to a conglomeration, the one I see on white walls,
The one I see fading through; BLEEDING
Through to stain the FAKE AND FRAIL "WORLD"
AND IT'S NOT REAL AND NEVER WILL BE!