Another Day, Another Week, Another Year

I've been juggling these delusions, seeking hope within the fusion of these fanciful extrusions of the truth,
But sadly losing what was left of all the soothing thoughts of youth
To be replaced by empty space, ambitions shattered by this artificial roof
My mind created long ago and I've never managed to break through,
So here I lie, just half alive, the weight of failure on my mind
Cause I survived, but I never got the chance to shine,
Bittersweet memories, like the finest of wine
That I've retained all this time just to track my decline
From who I was, to who I am, to a few years' time
When I might find a way of life that feels more like mine should be,
The problem is that I'm a slave to entropy;
The time bomb of decay that's always chasing me,
Rubbing shoulders with my self-esteem abrasively,
Saying "Look what they achieved when they were just 16,
While you can't even look away from that computer screen"
But this determinist philosophy, a self-fulfilling prophecy
Ensures that all your happy thoughts and prayers are simply lost on me,
You see, the cost is threefold; the stench of mould on those plates that is weeks old,
Gladly submerging all my goals within a deep hole,
Despising every single aspect of this weak soul,
Though I know,
I truly am the antonym of fool's gold;
My surface is a wreck that never shows the love my heart holds,
But blood is like a motor; it does nothing if it runs cold,
And I am terrified of being frozen from within;
Petrified by the mind's eye that judges all my sins,
As though Medusa and my soul are some kind of distant kin,
I never win; I simply lose without competing;
I had a friend that I called joy but I've forgotten where I'd meet him
So the closest feeling I can find is when my eyes have started leaking
Forcing words out of my mouth though no one even knows I'm speaking,
As I tremble and I shudder forwards, searching for some meaning
All I find is that this mind is polished t**d, and far from gleaming,
But you'll never see a scar, never find my pale wrists bleeding,
Simply look into my eyes, witness a soul that's sick of pleading
For release
Sick of dreaming painfully
Sick of wanting, sick of needing,
Sick to death of every reason why this life's so unappealing
Sick of all these things and more, lying fetal on the floor,
Until the knowledge of my failure comes to torture me some more,
So I am sorry I'm a bore,
Sorry I cannot ignore the keening screeches of my fears as they scratch and they claw
Up to the forefront of my mind and drown my shaking, weakened core,
In a concoction of anxieties, a cocktail of despair,
In the conviction that the world was better when I wasn't there,
And it takes all that I have left not to cave and shave my hair,
Not to tear apart my life until it's gone beyond repair,
Not to revel in the strife that seems to chase me everywhere,
Not to surrender
Not to give in,
Not to gently fade away until there's nothing but skin
And bones and pheromones
And finally I will be alone
To learn the lesson that the path I walk leads me away from home
Glued to the bar, ensure the drink still flows,
And hope my family never have to know the depths that I have sunk to in the throes of hedonism,
Hope they never come so close to the existential cataclysm
Which I've bordered all this time while knowing THIS is what life ISN'T,
I am sorry
For caving in so easily,
Accepting this deception like it's something I believe in,
We can hope and pray our fears are slowly leaving
But be reasonable;
The fear is the world we live in.