Nonsense, Or Perhaps A Wonderful Despair Poem by Jonzo Bandwagoner

I hate the fact I'm feeling
All this endless sickly dreaming
The rush, rush, rush
Of make-believing,
That never stops.

I wish I'd just grow up already
Despising friends, despising me,
The push, push, push
Of immortality,
That never comes.

Worthless, these moments, and
I'm ready to give up; give up already.
Sick, sick, sick,
I'm moving on,
But nothing moves.

Please God, hear my cry,
Either bring me home or cleanse my eyes
Because these tears have made me dry
This sickly world is passing by,
Help, help, help
Me.