it's hard not to hate.

people, things, institutions, when they break, your spirit takes pleasure in watching you bleed, hate is the only feeling that makes sense.
but i know what hate does to a man. tears him apart, turns him into something he's not, something he promised himself he'd never become ...

that's what i need to tell you, to let you know how hard i'm trying not to cave under the weight of all the awful things i feel in my heart.

sometimes my life feels like a deadly bullet in the act. what i feel against what i should do. impulsive reactions racing to solutions miles ahead of my brain ...

when i look at my day i realize that most of it was spent cleaning up the damage of the day before. in that life i have no future, all i have is distraction and remorse ...

i buried my best friend last night, maybe in my memories, maybe in the mud
as cliche it sounds, i left a part of me in that box
a part i barely knew
a part i'll never see again
everyday is a new box
you open it take a look at what's inside
you're the one who determines if it's a gift
or a coffin ...

listen everybody
i've seen what's inside this building
i want you to stop turn around and walk away
there's nothing inside
for we are dying meat
we're meat, and we're unspecial, and no one remembers us and we are utterly alone
so do yourself a favor and walk away
there's no plan there's nothing.
there's randomness, and chaos, and entropy and a slow certain decomposition of everything you are
and everyone you ever loved into the tiny little meaty components