Dilated Pupil: Porous Human

I write a lot about the wanting to belong, the heartache of losing what we love, and the depravity of man. This time I thought I'd take all those things and lump them into one, juicy package. Enjoy!

There is something wrong with this setting
That sterile smell, these ideals are overwhelming
All these IV needles; where did they come from?
When did my dream world become driven by a pacemaker?

Time to die. Not Yet. Please, just let me sleep.
Don’t take me from my shell just yet.
I’m not ready to experience struggle just yet
At war with myself. I can’t make myself believe
It’s time to put the nail in this coffin just yet
Is flatlining really just the beginning?

The human is never more porous 
Than when it is absorbing itself
But, don’t tell them you heard it from me
I’ve spent all my life believing man cast judgement harsh enough
To burst my everloving bubble of self-contentment

But, I’ve always likened our ruination to a slow drip
The comedown always begins when we run dry the bags of our ego drug
It’s something we don’t need a doctor’s advice to prescribe to
Itchy arm, twitching face, bloodshot, manic eyes
Where’s the fix, where’s the fix
We’re too far gone to be fixed by ourselves anymore.