Its like a muffle that wont close shut. The pain in my chest that pumps and continues and lives even if I tell it to stop. The pulse that forever lingers so lonely so free, so vacant in a place destined for fulfillment, but why must that be? I hate that fate is a facade we must create in order to go. Go where we ask ourselves. As the days break and the sun, somewhere lost in space, finds the time to give us light, that is still not enough. I want more, but I don't know why, not even where, how the fuck am I supposed to feel when the universe is a calling me there? Why me I ask? How could this smiling face hide such dismantled distortion so well? They ask why I smile, I say because I am happy. A lie I never ever lie about. But wait, what about God and love and trust? Or wait lets not forget the cries that cringe our souls that we do nothing about. The hate that triggers our destiny or the destinies of those who don't even see it coming. The war the battle, my life, the hassle. I sit up and stare. Staring into a room with closed windows, no air. No life, whatsoever. But its all in my thoughts. All in this suction of projected sanctions I know all to well. Now leave me be, as I try my hardest to fall back asleep and finish this dream.