Who am I to pretend that I don’t long to drift into submission?

That the idea of leaving all that I have behind just for the chance to feel satisfaction

I try to squeeze through every crack, keyhole, void… hole

When my eyes glaze over, my body stills, and my breathing slows

My imagination has permission to wander as it wishes

Oh to what treacherous heights and disparaging lows I’m able to go

It’s the classic case of choosing between the lesser of two evils

Do I feel more secure in the reality I’m forced to endure or the existence I’m capable of creating?

Sometimes I try to convince myself to listen to the liars who fake happiness like the rest of us

“My soul mate will complete me”, “Just dance”, “Time heals all wounds”…

Well, what about when my mate is incompatible with my soul?

Or when my body refuses to move another muscle

How about when time doesn’t have any medical training in my ailment?

I avoid silence in hopes that the noise will drown out my life

But sometimes reality, inside and out, is the only noise available

And what a deadly silent noise it is

Now I understand why the numbness is so appealing 

We’re professional escape artists but avoidance will not be bested by us

Here we are, a generation filled with people who are faced with the obstacle of trying to make sense of what we’ve left behind

Afraid to listen to ourselves because our souls are always crying out in thirst

With no oasis is sight, our wonderlands have become nightmares

So we fight to wake up been asleep so long that we can’t cope with consciousness

Where do we go now?

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