"Thorns"

I feel like the cracks across my ceiling
Struggling to hold the roof above my head
Wishing I could sleep just one night in my own bed
But Instead I waste my nights away
Carefully watching the pedestrians thrown from their homes
Cause the owners could no longer stand to take care of them.
So they took care of them.
I cast my conscience to the sidewalk
And stalk myself like prey in the bushes
Couldn't tackle my own beliefs I retreat to my mental garden
Where all the flowers are picked and the pricked hands
From my thorns leave trails of blood in every direction.
So I collapse and grab my knees shakin'
In the emptiness of what's left of my past
And grasped the notion that my future looks the same.
I grab a broom to clean up the mess
But get pleased by instantaneous distraction
And lick the poison from the darts in my eyes
They make me blind.
And I can acknowledge it but I still choose to ignore it
'Cause these thorns can't get any sharper.
Right?!
HA HA HA! I laugh more than I should
If I could I would take the sheep from your eyes
But the sleepy disguise is too perfect
And maybe the seams can be sown together
But its guaranteed that forever will always exist
And should I insist that existence his an end
Then allow me to mend the wounds
Of soon to becomes and future has beens.
I enjoy these little discussions but I've suffered a few concussions
And my decisions are changing and rearranging outcomes of past experiences.
I love what you have to say but I stay away
From conversations about my future or my present day struggle
Your huddle seems to be exclusive
And my attitude so elusive, but I conclude that my attitude will be conclusive,
So Fuck if you can understand the words in my vocabulary,
I'm stationary in a constantly roaming type sense.
I don't make sense when the dollars are depleting
I must have missed a meeting but my meat eating has taken flight
To ground myself and remember what it means to be human.
Top of the food chain.
Now remain in chains and retreat to the comfort of your emotional fort
There's only one way out and the door is locked
And the clock is ticking and picking away my life
Pricking my finger tips on the rose's stem
Wishing to mend the wounds with my own drawn blood.