Release.

Sometimes I want to let a bullet rip through my brain, Jam my key into my skull,  Combust at the gas pump,  Or die in my sleep.  Anything to break me free of this society, Anything to take me out of the monotony, Whatever can release me from my depravity, Whatever can salvage what's left inside of me. There’s a fight Going on inside of me Between what is really me And what is of this world. Like my soul Is rebelling against my body For the food I eat, The life I lead, The pain I inflict, The sordid waters I let myself drown in. It wants to come out Inhabit someone worthy, Or leave the fucking planet entirely. I drag it down, Anchor it, Like the dead weight I am. Is it my fault I can’t make anything of myself? Or is it how I’ve been conditioned? Get a job, Make money, Settle for someone,  Fucking die. Go to college, Not for what you want, Pass on minimum wage, Fucking die! Get a degree, The one you want, Starve on the streets, Fucking... die. Tweet it, Facebook it, Blog it, Fucking Die. What's the point if we're all machines? What's the point if I can't say "hello"? What's the point if I can't do what I love? What's the point if I can't stand it all? Am I really different?  Or am I just another cog? Does anyone think like me? Or are we all just shackled? ALL I WANT IS RELEASE RELEASE FROM THIS. IT’S POISONING MY MIND CORRODING MY SOUL. MY BONES ARE RUSTING IMBUED WITH THE DESPAIR THAT I’M NO MORE THAN THE SUM OF MY PARTS. NO MORE THAN A SACK OF ORGANS PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN.