I Fantasize About My Own Death Every Day.

I fantasize about my own death every day.

No need for calls of holding on,

No one's arguments are as good as mine.

I ravenously set about

Trying to understand all of life.

I got my answers

And now all I have are my delusions.

I have seen beyond the face of life

And I know what's waiting there.

I've seen behind the mask of daily living

And I know what the mask is for.

To know was better than happiness.

To understand more valuable than living.

I broke through

And beyond I found

Darkness

Profound darkness.

Here the stars are already old.

The creaks and cracks of aged world bones

Resonate within me.

I have aged far faster than intended

I am a dream fading into fog.

- me

I feel like I'm breaking again

It scares me

My hell fires

Seeping through the cracks

- mine, Andrew

I find myself wondering

How good of a person am I?

For those tempted to reassure me

Shut up.

In all honesty

I know I am not as bad as I would like to think.

On the other hand

I'm not very good.

I lust and hate

Not sins

Cheat myself and others.

I want more

Always more.

I am never satisfied

My imagination runs too wild.

I wanted god's throne

And took it

Even as I denied wanting it.

I wanted the world

And took it

Even while spilling rivers of blood.

I am lost in mythology;

Obscured by religion.

I am prideful above all else

And overwhelmed with shame.

I do not write for the masses.

As much as I might want to.

I write because I'm empty inside

And hope I can fill my void.

Even now

I have lost the purpose for my being here.

So many things;

I will never share with you.

I am angry

Wrathful towards mortality.

I loathe my own weakness

And rage against these constraints.

I resent reality's failure

To keep up with my imagination.

I want life to match my dreams

Whatever the cost.

Yet I am flesh

And I am not entirely able to forget it.

So I weave back down

And try to touch my own existence.

Here people are alive

Demons rule

Gods wear masks of piety.

Civilization breeds slaves

And I understand how strong that word is.

People live their lives in service to others.

They are given enough to subsist

But are never allowed to excel.

Their bounds are marked

Their lives designed.

We were thankful for what we are givin

And are incapable of seeking more

Though we may dream

We do not believe.

Though we hope

We dare not sure to seek.

Our world is manufactured against us

And we cannot find our way out.

Our gods are wicked.

They are the ones who live on high.

Those we envy

And look to for hope

Revile

And pray ill on.

This is our world;

Our reality.

We are in fact slaves

And we would kill each other first

Before those who keep us here.

I once believed we could rise up.

Now

I think part of us will always fight

To keep others down.

Too long in the mires of lost gods

To be able to put our species first.

This are we doomed,

Damned to die because we cannot move past.

Bound to...

What do I call it?

Such stupidity as to make me wish we would all die.

At least then there would be quiet.

All the arguing

Hating

Damning and persecuting.

All the aspects of our species

Put to death

And life allowed to continue.

No more awareness.

No more consciousness.

Only the blissful ignorance

Of existence just existing.

Then again

I don't know how to give up

And so I keep on hoping

Even against hope.

I have become toxic.

Not entirely sure when it started

But here I am.

I don't know what to do.

Something's got to give.

Something has to be lobotomized

Family friends school or self

While work cruelly grins in the corner

Knowing it has me bound.

- me myself Andrew

Who am I to be asked for advice?

My life hasn't gone as planned?

Hasn't developed according to normal standards.

I am a beast

A monster

A free floating child

Trying to find their way

Across the cosmos or terror.

My friend's heart.

My friends' laugh.

Do I have a say in such things?

No.

As much as I might have hoped

Each person is in charge of their own life.

They breath

Pray

And lust according to their own needs

Fantasies

Hopes and desires.

I myself am free from others

And am twisted up

Just like everyone else.

No one can tell us who we are.

Only we

Can create our own reality.

In the end

All life ends in death.

Trying to make a standard by which we live

Is nothing but a vicious lie.

One intended to force us in to the status quo.

Be free.

Which only means

Existing as your heart wants to.

Don't be controlled.

Don't be rulled.

Don't be the property of others.

You matter beyond what your days might register

You are the sole meaning

Of your own years.

We are all but pawns in your own dream.

So live

Live deeply

And just sow what brings you peace.

One day

If we all pray

Everyone will understand.

Then each person will be free

And we won't have to worry

How others react

To our existing.

I create pain

Unneccessary pain

Because I can't be honest

Because I can't be honest with myself.

I am not anything

Just a hollowed out body

Unable to decide on life.

I have lived my life as a living suicide.

Day by day

A break away another piece of what makes me human

Till all that is left

Is the death I wait for

At the end of years.

I have worshiped my own vanity

My own pompous self-sacrificing hypocrisy.

I was too afraid to live

And so I chose to die forever