Private Symphony

You see inertia and sluggishness are synonyms to sloth.
Then that means phlegm and congestion are synonymous with cough.
So I guess a fireplace and a smooth rug are synonymous with stroke.
Not tonight though because here I sit alone, drunken with sleep as the television is still on. Move after movie, this is the third time I've seen Bad Boys today.
Its night time but the light by my bed make my eyes dance with haze.
I made some calls today, none of them really important; my cousin's upset about his Mexican chick getting deported.
I try to listen intently but I cannot focus, I change the channel and it's the movie Mr. Holland's Opus.
Script after script, line after line I want to rip all my hair out and cause the stoppage of time.
I tire of this self blame and self hate stupid ignorant adjectives I repetitively duplicate.
No one is here now my value is net zero; no one talks to me on IM, so tonight the yellow running man is not my hero.
Eating is psychologically depleting, drinking as well.
I should workout my stress but oh well.
I haven't the strength or the stamina to lift anything else heavy. You would understand if your brain held a tank.
You would understand if your heart was holding the weight equivalent to the money in the vault of a bank.
I could cry but I don't wanna mop up the Atlantic, I could talk to another woman but she's an um bop like the song by Hanson.
Tragically my girlfriend died today in accident so sickening, it used to be her singing to me but now I conduct my own private symphony…

**Fueled by passion, driven by pain before I die the world will know my name**

- JioVanni