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?