Far Too Many Chemicals.

A stream of embittered, angsty consciousness.

Brakes. Hit the fucking brakes.
We’re speeding out of control towards the apex of oblivion
where everything is possible, and nothing will be done.
I am lost in a lost generation,
full of expectation,
full of desire,
but void of character and drive.
I will end up as nothing and worse than nothing.
I can only judge myself. I judge myself unworthy.
There is no god, but that’s ok. We all choose our own punishment.
Everybody is the same. 
If I could only be assured that there was one part of me that was mine,
how different would things be?
But everything is the same.
Mirrored actions,
mirrored words,
onward
onward
until it all
turns
dark.
And green.
And bits of glass and pain and remorse.
There is no salvation here.
Why can’t I go back?
I can’t feel.