Automatic writing

my demons haunt me for me reason and will not drown, but I am not going to die tonight, I wont let them get me. but my life revolves around beating these with music and creativity . smoke fills the fields of barley and flows with gas. the flowers grow but become weary and cannot move on but nor back, forever frozen in time and movement of sound pauses around these. cartoons look so real, almost more than life itself and confusion arises. are you sick of it? sick of the realism? what is realism you ask? well can you tell me what is surreal and oppose it. Its not because of me its because of you that this happened, what do you think would become of this? nothing but regret and no happiness. why would I think the sky is blue when its grey? wake me when its bright and its all my fault. but all I know is that nothing is right so you can flip onto a penguin.