Idea Drought

I've got nothing to do, when actually I have everything to do.
This is one of those moments where I just wanna drift away and die.

Where's the punctuality I once displayed with my ace remarks?
Why do I want to die right now and a corpse and have my sorrow instead of waiting all life for five minutes of fame?

Why do I get the feeling that in the end, I mean nothing?

I've been wired into the system, yet I feel disconnected. Even the Network has ignored me. I feel like joining the spirit of Lushotology. I want to feel so gone that I have no where else to hit. I feel like hitting rock bottom before getting back up.

I can't remember a thing, my mind is in a hundred different places at once. I can't concentrate. Essay due on Tuesday, what do I do? Drift away.

Fire burning in the main place, where is my conscious? I can't think straight at all. I feel repetitive. My minds in a hundred different places at once. Where is my spark? I feel like dumping people out of my life that don't help me at all, though it's not their fault.

The memories and imprints that make me up are shattering. When I see you cry, I die. When you crash and burn, what hope do I have? The happiest person I know gets blue and it feels like a bad balloon. A defection inflation of the ninth retaliation.

I used to be scared about falling asleep and never waking up. And when you wake up next to me, do you cry because this is where finally ended up? Now I welcome the endless prayer. Place me in purgatory, Holden Caulfield, because now I'm awake and I feel so useless in this society we call home.

A demon's suicide note burns in my hands and I feel the pieces scar my palms. The death of millions in the streets of San Francisco when I hear you scream out, "New York!".

My brain's falling apart inside my head, a concrete rollercoaster, a mental lag. Browser failure, crisp books with bent spines, why don't you help me out tonight?

Smoke me to death, Newport rings.

My mind is so gone...