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sent to transition, we're following a dogma tradition. it's hard to tell what's real from the inside out. a concrete impostor, you'll see the division. you vomit glass phrases, cutting up your insides while you're coughing up your ego. but the scenery's ever changing and my mind never sleeps. stuck in this motionless existence we try so hard to forget, communicating with a broken dialect. a pattern of signals to your brain, a sickness, resulting in stasis. our minds move like machines decaying in a flawed system, but we will never give it up. so caught up, partial paralysis in the occult of america. you should know this could end on a bad note. i grit my teeth at the thought of giving in, to move on or to just keep living in this. as sick as it may be i'm finding comfort in knowing there are other tortured souls like mine. even though we do not speak at all, there are others with the same things inside them. how dare i let this begin again. deceptive concepts are hidden within false motives and i can't begin to understand, the cancer's turning in. at the beginning of this i wanted to blame everyone but myself. countless times i've turned the other cheek to what i know is right. we can't live on without responsibility, even though we were born into it. but i'll give in to this apathy, welcoming a space to occupy and change beyond recognition, until then my conscious cannot be clean.