rumbling ranting grumbling chanting

i run toward the past, fantastically dramatical as the satanical creation of my mind slips out of time and becomes a chance happening. yesterday is today, today is forever, and the hate of my mind destroys the path in front of me. the path to nowhere, that led me for too long, too much of myself poured into it. i want to be rich, i want to be famous, i want to be somewhere other than here.  i want so badly to create a concrete thought, to know how to create a concrete thought. but the flow of the words are absurdly vague to me, and stage fright happens every night as i sit in front of the screen of my dreams. 

ridiculous and religious happenings keep me from creating my own destiny, forging it from the fire of my desire. but i can't seem to grab onto anything anyway, my only friend in the world only cares about me the most that she is able, which isn't enough for my hungry heart. i want more. i want the fake. i want to get what i want. i'm screaming for it, lunging at my head as i throw a piece of myself to the bed, stomping out the pieces with the peaces of me that will never be free. why is this faith so faithless? and why cant the concrete be found? its completely surrounded me, this wanting to be free, and unless i can figure out a way to crack the door, i fear i will finally be that whore that i have always loathed.

either that, or my brain will finally go insane for the last time and the rhymes will be understood by no one, nothing and everything happening at once until at last my brain explodes from the pressure of its own head.  and i'll be dead. what a pity.

i've driven the pain from my mind as i push it toward my heart, its starting to eat at me there and the hair-line between right and wrong is impossible to determine, and i run back and forth, not even willing myself toward any side, just whichever screams the loudest and promises me the best candy.

i used to want truth, now i don't even know what truth is.  is it your grand plan to make this all so goddamn confusing that i cant do anything but scream and shout myself to myself, for no one else is listening? you say you want the best, but how is that true if the only thing i get is more calloused. this is ridiculous. it really is.