Numb

can't feel my face

Infuriated Interior..
Excruciated Exterior..
Defeated Disposition..
Imposed imposition.

Myriad of attempts at feeling something,
Something other than pain and despair,
Opened up to countless corpses,
Walking and talking but cold and heartless.

Wish I could take it all back,
get back on track...
get away from all these pretentious proletariats,
find my croaking compatriots.

These unreal usurpers exasperate me,
they deserve the devastation,
that I feel everyday,
for being so phoney and imitative.

But I guess that's life,
feeds on the hopeless romantics,
exalts the pesky pretenders,
inducing comatose on the contenders.