down in the slums in that place we all work so hard to forget; I find myself trying to untangle my grip on a lesser vision of reality. a 24 hour mask that crumbles on the 12th hour as the sheet of night blocks out the light that helps keep the demons inside. I can't kick hard enough to counter the anchor of inadequacy that pulls to the bottom of this sea of emotions.. I scale the walls in search for an exit until I grow tired enough to not remember the moment the nightmare pauses for the dream to begin. I have the urge to run and never look back, to live and see it all for myself but then I hit the wall with signs pointing back home..back to my mom. See, to have the urge isn't always enough to have to drive; a drastic move like the one I desire requires a push- a reason to run, which I have not. I have lost all but a minuscule portion of my trust for my fellow human being and I fear that in my search for a greater purpose I will only find myself looking back to fulfill the sense of connection I stride for.. I haven't even stepped out the door and I already miss my mother, I already worry and feel my heartbeat get heavier just thinking about her disposition in life.. I wish I could give her the life that I know she deserves.. maybe then I could go in peace to find my place, but until then I fear this burning war will wage on within me. nothing about life is fair. the rich get richer and dive further into their ignorance of life's true values while the poor get poorer while gaining a sense of enlightenment that helps adjust the balance for all the pleasures they know not of but nonetheless leaving them helpless to the outcome of the greater picture. lifestyles of overindulgence are built on the bare backs of those held deceived that one day they'll get a piece of the pie so long as they eat crumbs and do as their told without question. it makes me sick to my stomach. I cannot bare the thought and contemplation of the human condition's spectrum in quality of life. why them and not us. what have we done to deserve this life stamped by insignificance. why does paper rule the world in place of love? so far to the point where that word has practically lost it's meaning. life is a miraculous gift that should be celebrated every day the sun rises but instead we have made a dark cloud of it where no light can penetrate without a price tag attached to it. what is freedom? just another word for gray; subject to holder and how hard they worked to convince themselves.. but unlike the color it isn't real.. through its tones every degree of freedom we cherish comes with terms and conditions. I wonder where along the line it all went wrong.. a primitive characteristic evolves until one day they call it sophistication forever nullifying the fact that its roots will always come from a primitive place; such ideas must be cleansed and redefined if we're to have any hope in keeping our place in the cosmos. my pain runs hard and deep as I tear inside between my struggle to find reason and my will to survive.

and the night is still young..