Philiocofansis

You spend all your money on plane tickets And you will until the day you die. Just to fulfill the idea of the person you wish to be. Someone insightful, outgoing and alive. To escape, trying to escape. Desperately, escape The truth. That you are bones wrapped in skin. You’re vegan, pescatarian, vegetarian, To escape the fact That you’re a murderous being At heart. Flesh torn from bone, eaten raw, Eaten crisp To fill the hunger that rages within. The hunger to kill, to eat, to kill You’re part of PETA, of CARE, of Doctors without Borders. Separating yourself From the truth of your existence. The blood on your hands stain

What’s the point of holding on. I mean, honestly; who are we trying to impress? There are people who say that “the best is yet to come”, but they are just fooling themselves. Pretty little lies to help them get through the bad times But it’s been 7 years since I realised what I have And since then there’s never been more than 4 weeks without feeling the infernal pain. Even when medicated. It’s exhausting, And we hold on to make a point. But what’s the point? We surround ourselves with things that mark our “successes” But the only real success is that we made it through the day Without jum

Breathing underwater Is this a secret thing? I suffocate in the air And drown in the sun. I am alive when I am trapped But I am dead when I am free. And that is all that there is.

If this war never ends, then what’s the point in fighting? If the successes last only a short time, then what is the point? If the successes do not feel grand, then why achieve? And if the light does not shine, then why do we see?

He was never mine to keep The years I looked upon him with favour The times spent together in jest Was only time borrowed. Just a speck of time I stole. But now I see that he is with you, Your place is where I stood. I kept it warm for you, I guess. Please, to him be true.

I feel ill I’m going to die I have a twitching in my eye I’m burning up, I’m feeling sick I’ve got a feeling this is it. Going to the doctors- three today He said I’m a Hypochondriac. No clue where I’m at I swear I’m gonna die today I have an ingrown toenail My skin is looking pale I’m got the shakes I’m gunna die Cause I’m a Hypochonriac Is there a pill for that? Drug me up and wish me luck I think my Tongue has swollen up My breasts have shrunk a cup I haven’t slept at all today They say I’m a Hypochondriac And that I’m doing crack, That it makes me parano

A life of dreams, wrapped in hope Trapped in a box of despair. A trembling child in the garden of Eden Enclosed by a circle of fire. You have the world beneath your feet Opportunities for you to take. You can be anyone, do anything but the only one stopping you, is you. Live like Icarus and not like a mouse For before he fell; he felt life, freedom and hope. But a mouse only feels fear Embrace the risk and do not fear it. For the longer you wait, the further you fall Into the sands of time, unable to move Suffocating. Your life is your own No-one else’s.

I melted the ice of the polar caps, To stop the concern of inevitability. I moved the polar bears to the zoos And the penguins to Sea World. They’re  happy there, And now fish swim at our feet. I took the oil from beneath our toes And sent it into the sun. Now we don’t need to worry And a star is fed, ready to burst. We have renewable energy now And a warmer summer. I chopped down all the trees And burnt them all to feed the sky. Now we have no means of oxygen And the greenhouse is full. We will die with a smile From our poisonous intoxication. I thought that I would do the job We seem to have set out to do. For all this fuss

Do you not feel it, When you stand there so innocently? Staring into space. Does the fear not grip you Filling each crevice within you, gaseous And tear you from within? When the pain hits And you hold on to anything beside you, Do you not give up? Do you not think, If given the option, “I’d opt out”? But it's not offered. Do you find it’s too hard, To go on, to breath, to open your eyes, Even if they’re still open? It’s debilitating It’s demeaning It’s reality.