I'm a romantic of my dreams, looking at the passions I have seen to be the least drastic of what seems to be the most tragic of my being: The demons who want to give me intelligence, existing just to remember the days of a lesser sense where I could not be afraid of my thoughts because sitting here thinking is all that I got. I think about dying because right now what am I doing? We're really just waiting here wishing that none of us have to go through it. Am I paranoid for feeling this lonely because I got two parents and brother and they love me all so much but the can't see what I'm under? Am I really what they say I am? Or am I really what I tell myself? Is this really everything I have? Or am I waiting to go to hell? Pause for a minute because I'm too young and privileged to be overreacting to synapses or a raptured planet contaminated by spastic acts of human beings who disgust me. But I believe in them, what they can achieve when demons leave their essence and what's left is a reason to perceive in a positive perspective. An exorcism is not easy, but the rest is all withdrawal. All i wanna do is get high and she replied 'don't we all?

Sleep on, don't wake up save yourself from demons. Bones break from these slaves born into wealth.

I got a green eyed beast looking at me from the mirror. I'm too unclean to be anywhere near her but I have to be, she's a masterpiece and I'm an abstract fiend so I'm actually a sick minded freak, a fucking siamese of perversion and ambition to the highest degree full of lies and deceit go and try to believe that I'm an angel but that faggot died in his sleep. Better yet before that while lying in his bed. While thinking why bad things happen to good men. "Why are people waiting to die when there's heaven? Why are we forgiven just to sin again?" My guardians could not protect me. Satan's grip is on my flesh. She holds me close she's oh so sexy. Forever the obsession with Lucifer Leslie

As I lay me down to sleep, I hope that I fall real quick. If my mind runs for too long then my mind gets sick. Cancerous amateur thinking that dabbles in nothing but minimal thoughts of an everyday person who never concerns himself with nothing urgent so where is the purpose of it all? Searching the dark study halls, no demon or angel calls. I'm stuck in a prison and from the beginning my mind was the flight of the fall. I'm praying for my past I'm praying for the last.