Distress

Those ethereal choirs of sadness I keep hearing in my mind

Always driving their rusted vises deep within the core of my atrophied conscience

Overlaying the abysmal revolt within, with a cloak of frost and silence

A revolt against life, hope, beauty and everything that stands behind happiness and love

I cannot really explain why, I just feel I'm not part of anything positive in this world

That doesn't mean I seek to be that way, I wage a permanent inner-war

With no winning side

I've always been too emotional, I used to be totally rampaged by events that most humans would normally ignore or just laugh about

Then the events themselves started to lose their importance when I realized they didn't triggered the exact same linear emotions/reactions as before

This has however bestowed an apprehension of the laws transcending my life, inherent to surrounding universal laws as well as a projection of external hostile acts against myself and the associated theorical reactions I could possibly feel at that precise time, call it paranoid if you will.

The question: Am I truly a depressive, desperate person?

The answer: No

Just a lost/confused child at hearth that never understood the world he was part of,

Still living the weight of dead dreams undying

Mentally recreating everything as he sees fit as well as amplifying the stench of human misery, be it sickness, hate, violence and cruelty bred by our own de(generation) to quench is thirst of emotional bursts needed to balance his own sensibility

Distress; an inverted deafening howling of helplessness

Echoing endlessly within the mind of those who sees

Through life, as starring a mirror without any reflection

As being a shadow without any light

External interactions which seems to lose significance

Daily venturing on the verge of madness and/or murder

Everything becomes pieces of a (w) hole, defined by my needs

What could be worst than this force fed, repressive, oppression

When you feel your head is going to explode

And you desperately wish someone could connect with you

Just for a fraction of time, and share the burden of those depressive stirs

You quickly realize that you drown most peoples with the weight of your thoughts

Then for a brief moment you feel relieve to see the impact of your own nightmare

Crashing down the fragile barricades of surrounding serenity

Imposing your world to forge its credibility…

But in the end that wasn't the point, and you quickly realize that you

Annoy everyone when trying to dig out your own depraved, repressed feelings

This leads you to wonder what first motivated you in meeting other humans

When their entertaining role ends, and true help is required

No one's interested by who you really are, and how much energy you spoil

In your struggle to keep a glimpse of hope alive

What matters them, is your charisma, attractiveness and/or entertaining features

I myself cannot deny that fact

That is quite horrible when you realize the full extent of that simple observation

I know I wrote this a thousand times before

But creating nullifies a part of useless concerns

You have already woken up thousands of times in your life, and being aware of that won't enable you to stop the need to sleep

What I feel is infinite