plagued with an imagination in a land of dream destruction 
pavement running true north and south, inundated in self doubt. 
when you were young, the unfamiliar could’ve been anything 
but as you grow older, you realize it’s all the same fucking thing. 
block after block after block 
grid after grid after grid 
lines leading to nowhere and nothing. 
life is nothing but comfortable in the populated no-man's-land 
flashing lights stain the suburban sky and god lives and dies inside crushed coke cans. 
coming home from a crowded church to an empty house with an empty head 
lying in your bed in peace and quiet but still afraid of death. 
I’ll start letting my chest rust out in an effort to make myself lighter 
I am mine if I want me to be and that’s all I need.