Apocalypse

How cryptic can you get?

How categorically we have submitted ourselves to this fantasy of fantasies

How stereotypical our defeat will be

If there is no emotion evoked there is no art

Maybe I've been going at this all wrong.

Art is perhaps not the exact emotion of the moment (lines perhaps do not have to be exact, like a photograph)

But art is the estimation, personal interpretation of the emotions of life. 

Just as a soul must be,

So lines are not lines,

Shapes are not shapes,

Its not a ruler you need for art,

it's a soul 

Will tea time fix this?

No.

Will buying things fix this?

No.

Will reading fix this?

No.

Will listening to music fix this?

Slightly, but still no.

Will I be able to fix this?

I don't think so.
i mean, so far I haven't been able to find a way. So...,

No.

Will God fix this?

I have a strong gut feeling,

Yes.

 I slipped but I'm sober now.

There is no lock on my heart

The door is wide open, broken

There was nothing here to start

They took everything before my first words were spoken

I feel like i'm walking around in all the things you said.

Just Like F***** You

I'ts that point you get in your life

When you say:

"You know what?!"

I'm not sorry.

I'm in existence,

I'm here.

And I'm not sorry.

I'm not sorry I survived

Not anymore.

I try

You try

I'm not perfect.

But I'm here

Making the best of it,

Just like F****** you.