Unified in our individualism, we collectively suffer…

We live in a system defined by hierarchies and divisions yet we still say it’s for a greater good that will eventually benefit everyone.

We claim that things like honor, fairness, and honesty are valuable yet disregard them at every turn. Conscientiousness is crap.

Let’s face it. Our society mass produces depression and anxiety from natural deposits of naïveté, hope, and talent.

In other words, we live in a disappointment-driven economy. And this disappointment economy is driven by a policy of philosophical suicide. Shout out to my Patrick Batemans.

Anyway, I’m not sure if dreams are a renewable resource, but I sure hope they don’t take the rest of mine...

Because when you lose your dreams you realize...

There’s no escape, no out because you’re you and I’m me...

I want liberation, I want freedom, I want to love, but there will always be strings attached…

I want other people, I want to trust, I want to believe but I can’t...

Because I’m not okay, and I never will be. I love you, but I can’t love you correctly. You’ll leave me, feel like you still need me, and never truly move on. That’s just how it’s played. And I’ve already accepted that I won’t ever fully move on. Which means that I’ve actually moved on. Because sometimes reality gets delayed

Just goes to show that...

We’re trapped in an imperfect consciousness dictated by our thoughts, feelings, and perceptions of the outside. And the outside is dictated by words, which are either a release or a trap that locks you into an identity that everyone else recognizes. Words can constrict you. They can construct you. They can deconstruct you. Words can ignite revolutions, words can quell those revolutions, words can be more terrifying than the bullet inside of the gun of the person telling you to “Shut the fuck up!”


Maybe bullets are more freeing than words. Maybe death is the ultimate expression. Maybe loss is something that can never truly be externalized or understood until it’s personal.

After all, it’s not the dead words that I miss.

But then again…

Nothing ever stays. Things Fall Apart. Maybe humanity was predestined to die with a horribly complex understanding of their existence. Maybe the second coming was just a cheap joke.

Fuck it. I just want us to be better. I don’t wanna cry when I think about the world in its totality. I don’t wanna account for human nature when something shitty happens. I don’t want to look for excuses or have to explain a larger systemic issue anymore. I just want things to be ok. It’s asking for a lot, I know.

And If I’m being honest, I don’t think we’ll get there. I think we already failed. We live in a world where we put monetary value on life and human suffering. A world that is inherently dehumanizing and destructive. A world that is only going to continue to fail us.

But I can’t give up. I can’t ever give up. Cuz bleak nothingness isn’t freedom.



This poem is about: 
Our world


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