Is this really it? Is this really all I want it to be. And usually we find what we want in dreams found in sleep.

[Surai]

And dreams end when we wake. Is this really it. All we had dreamed for. Gone to waste. In funnel downwards. Of black smoke. Choking whatever we had grasped. With our own hands, all of it flown out of. It circling back. It ends where it began. Only to liken itself to a snake biting tail. Where animals tear themselves apart. It's part of our function. To tear ourselves apart. There was never going to be. What we had dreamed. It's why dreams exist in this state of being otherwise it would have been real. When it isn't even enough we tend to think. If this is really it. And we know it. But somehow this hidden under the skin drive. That the biology has to keep breathing no matter what. Even if we tear it apart... To keep breathing even if we may be in hell already. This nature like branches climbing up the wall forcing itself to keep growing. Until the destruction of itself often in the most brutal forms. Lay itself across the bathroom floor all bloodied. But it doesn't have to be all bloodied, it could be just like sleep, and without a moment of a clear mind there doesn't seem to be a moment without any of it hurting

 

[Deepdense]

It's always had a sense of beauty to me though. The worst things tear us apart and we have to prove ourselves back together to stay alive. We will never be the same we once were.