I need a bomb, dismantle me so

Have I become shallower through the months of your undying presence? Will it die already? Please, there is a route awaiting to be written, 66 routes pleading for a note, pleading for such rhythm I ain’t got. There is a wall of politics and revolution in rouge, a rebellion cast upon the moon and the moon is lifeless. Will your voice quiet already? I need my own, my silence, my infinite voices that deny limits despite the love they profess to them. I need my style, my grace my vanity, yes my vanity, or is it Kerouac’s? Ain’t it all vanity? Say he, Ain’t all reason? Says I, Ain’t it worthless? Says Nietzsche, Shut up we shout, Say it ain’t so, say we ain’t such a waste of time.

I am not depressive and refuse to be so with the shadow of ink and deception. I will resume to nihilism for fun and integrity, there is no integrity, no dignity, no reason, and no love. I do love, love and reason overall. This can not go anywhere but to some random lost site on the web, waiting to be read by you and only you, for you whoever you are, you’ll know so when you might.

I need a catalyst, need a bomb, dismantle me so.