Insanity and me are forever real
These wounds just never seem to heal
I tried so hard to hold you all these years
You, bright eyed, left me and my insanity in tears
Do you notice any tears? No? Well that's what insanity is all about. That's what I am all about. And that's what I am gonna be all about.
There are times in your life when you don't need to pretend anymore. Everything just swishes past by you like a rocket leaving you and your inner animal yearning for happiness while you're sitting forlorn with a black grimace as your damn perennial countenance. When wind decides to land by and render the surface with cold colours, you drop heavy salt from those dull eyes to make the surface wet and slithering. Everything and anything doesn't seem to work when you have anger, irritation, frustration and vex running through your nerves. Everything, not even the wind.
Why do I get irritated so often?
Why am I so much temperamental when I know I don't have to be?
Why do I want to use words which I know are bad?
Why is me a strange man each day?
I spit words here with a diminished spark of finding answers; for finding a new me; with a hope of killing me. Maybe it's just a game; maybe it's just a phase; maybe it's just Love.
This is a theory of a deadman which says I can never change your mind if it's not love. I am rather blind if I see you walking away without me. I am rather correct if my insanity is still you and I am rather seriously insane if I'll still try to hold you, even in my tears, all further years.
All of you who read this and feel sympathetic or maybe irritated are free to comment their heart here. Just say what you really feel and want me to know. Though I might not take your suggestions and philosophies seriously. You know, I'm growing with this fucking insanity of my own.