I have been branded as “outlandish” by some who apparently can’t handle it. 

Maybe it’s the excessive aggressiveness but it’s helped with relieving my stresses and I still remain unapologetic about the rhetoric that some would find offensive. 

Since I’ve been professing this message, I’ve been going on like a broken record but this form of communicating has been alleviating what would be years of unresolved tension and is it safe to mention that some days I am not well? 

I have sat in silence, soaked in my tears, crying, trying to make sense of what I’ve done, constantly faking and hating the man that I had become. 

But I forced another smile, stuffed the hurt for a little while but it began to tear a gaping hole in the fabric of my soul until it couldn’t be avoided anymore; leading to misguided anger, restrained, tangled in that complicated web that I spun but I escaped using my own tools to once again prove that an idiot with a plan can beat a genius without one. 

It’s asinine but these doubts of mine have been known to keep me up at night and if fear really is a self-imposed prison then I’ve been living a life sentence with tally marks on the walls of my cell. Barred, claustrophobic, scarred, and without bail. And to be honest, I’m still scared as hell...

I’ve spent the last ten years in the trenches.Though my dissension has offended those who said they could have granted my wishes and as a result, maybe I’m not as far as I ought to be but in spite of it all, I’m still here indefinitely. 

Ambivalent I am with my dreams, to hide yet be seen, camouflaged in broad daylight as a persistent and pestilent anomaly who seeks no ones reprieve in such a fabricated industry.

I'm building blocks to the top but sooner or later when the bottom drops I won't have far to fall and it’d be completely worth it after all because I remained uncompromising in my stance to be exactly who I am. 

Like an interface between radio waves propagating through space, I am the antenna receiving a frequency from something beyond me. These are the methods to my madness, labeled proudly as "iconoclastic", I masked it as sporadic with heavy doses of neurosis, persevering by faith as many are called but few are chosen. 

I’m coming to the end of me, completely empty and as for a moral to this story, consider this: You may have seen me struggle but you will never see me quit!