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If mountains could break from the inside out, and each boulder fell upon its sister while snowflakes (in delusion of physical uniqueness) fall as if tears to successfully personify a rock in a cold and hard place Then you'd be in my head.
What happened to this mountain? Hell, I don't know. A goat took too many shits And a goat in this metaphor is myself in my head
I hate goats, so I guess that says a lot.
It is cold in here, though. There's constant pressure to do nothing and no pressure to do something. An urge without a goal Some suicidal drive to twiddle your thumbs.
It hurts in here And that doesn't make me emotional And this doesn't make me defiant That doesn't make me a label phobic person And that doesn't make me anything.
To be absent inside yourself is a bit absurd, to say a mountain is hollow is an impressive If not depressing Feat.
When you ache for a miner with a gold tooth To crack your surface It can make you lazy.
Trees don't grow on me, they can't take root And neither can I. Fuck, I'm just a huge rock tumbling about I'm a rebel to gravity
Does this allow to escape reality? No It also inhabits me from escaping this asylum that I'm locked in by just sitting here
So there's this vertical, broken stone that remembers growing Remembers warmth And now it learns... nothing. I'm... it is empty.
Favorite visual artistDaliFavorite moviesThe Goonies, V for Vendetta, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, WatchmenFavorite TV showsAdventure Time, Regular ShowFavorite bands / musical artistsMuse, Simian Ghost, ZomboyFavorite booksName of the Wind, Wise Man's Fear, Game of ThronesFavorite writersPatrick RothfussFavorite gamesSkyrim, Borderlands, Fire Emblem, MinecraftFavorite gaming platformXbox 360 and PCTools of the TradeWacom Tablet, Paper and pencil, pen, charcoal, acryllics