Don't let the wicked city get you down.

I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not solid. I'm hollow. There's nothing behind my eyes. I'm a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.

I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.

You are a dream; I hope I never meet you.

If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.