accela

The rhythm of premeditated harm
Blacking out before the damage is done
Finding comfort in disgust
I'm backwards, I'm fucked
I'm here but my mind is gone

Too much is never enough
Push the threshold
Pleasure never fills up
Gluttony is a rumor
The need is real
The coping is redundant
But it helps me feel

Is that you, on the other side of the glass? (Of the glass)
Am I facing divinity or apparitions of the past? (Of the past)

Melting away
The glass screen shines on my face
Everything I am
My eyes strain to recognize this reflection
So far from perfection
Self-indulgent perception

Infatuated with self (the noise of my thoughts start playing their song)
If I write the script, I will only eat my words (and dry heave on self-sabotage)

Okay, let's see, I guess that I'm confused again
Am I here, or am I there? I don't know
Over there, I'm everywhere, I know that
But here is connected to over there, is that right?
But then, where is the real me after all is said and done?
Oh, there is no real me, I guess that's it
I only exist inside those people aware of my existence
But what about this me that I can hear talking right here and now?
It's me, isn't it?