from the hole. 
And suddenly and without knowing I'm messing up, drowning, including what appeared to the free and what not. The green smoke, fog, ice on the feet, knees, chest, than my head and locked. Terrify me. Bury me.
When freedom is going to end crippling back and what you thought it was worth losing and losing value, to become in a sense, long-winded, incomprehensible. A sea of \u200b\u200bmeaninglessness, a sea of \u200b\u200bunanswered questions fro a foul.
The feeling becomes a sensation, a remnant of its former self, an eternal twilight, a bitterness in the throat with chest tightness. Impotence. A pity, laziness of the same, but an inner hatred, growing despair. The feeling can not be physical, is what I thought, but apparently, that's all that matters lately. Feel things differently. And between injections, inhalants, injury, murder, drinkable and those who smoke, are looking to fulfill my expectations.
When the change thus becomes routine, you want to return. When drugs do not give you enough, you just dig a little further into the well. When you are completely tired of this shit.
would be like I wonder if there is no prejudice, if regulated to disappear, if I had more freedom yet. But betraying your conscience.
do not know and never will ...
Because being under sea level of morality and ethics, although they pretend disinterest, you'll disgust yourself. From what charges, what charges, what you did, what you will, and the image of grandmothers stuffed into sweaters, they return to you with suspicion by the street when crossing, and the words that are sure to think , are bouncing your head without sounding really.
That I speak, of that damn rejection appears to be in the veins of the complex. And what's worse, I will comfort you preset? No, never.
A. Those in this hole, do not want to get out more.
B. It's like selling your soul, is an exchange incorrigible.
And then remember the good that is to be there, stop thinking, and you engage in pleasures.
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