climax(spoken word)

                  
                   
                   
                   
        stimulation makes the simulation-manifestations in variations....                  
                   
                   
      climax....                    
                   
                   
      i "feel" like i've been walking miles through the ice cold snow....i can't "feel" my face nor toes while my mind feels like it's wasting away-                  
                   
                   
   everyday my life flashes.... suddenly, like a climax does...                  
                   
                   
    it's bittersweet "pour" like glass jar of molasses.... resonating with blackness as if night were everlasting....                  
                   
                   
  though the "dark" gives reason for the "dawn"(when "reality" dawns on me) to come after.... if one could inhabit a freezer without hazzard.... that's the way that it "feels" to have little to no satisfaction                    
                   
                   
 like one's "dead" and yet "living" like a half and half package-and it takes more than before for some sort of satisfaction....                  
                   
                   
exhausting....                  
                   
                   
this "life's" about giving an offering-                  
to sustain one's own "life"....                  
while there's nothing worth while much  happening....                  
                   
                   
just steady jacking-numb, empty....on set with no action....                    
                   
                   
annoyed yet neutral...                  
                   
                   
gloomy.... while most project bloomy....                  
                   
                   
climax....                  
                   
                   
it comes if it comes than it goes just as fast....                  
like an itch that "needs" "scratching"; what the hell is the point of having these "urges"....                  
                 
                 
 like the stomach is just a feeding machine,                  
and the lungs just a breathing machine, the heart and brain commands all of these "gadgets".... just to experience what exactly?                  
                 
                 
then one "dies" after....                  
                 
                 
i relate to that "feeling" of, what the hell really matters?                  
             
             
one's existence revolves around "paper" and "plastic"; if the whole system crashes....            
             
             
it's like amusement park rides cease the function as the folks start to panic.... i replay in my mind all the bad that could/would happen....            
             
like "final destination films" except just not as random....      
             
but present time-while the machine feeds the masses.... i'm stuck in that loop of, "life" is so fucking tragic" -_-