Poem about graffiti

_Cans rattling I battle my paranoia with aerosol, it's blocked out till I can't even taste clean air at all, wounds heal with the pungent sense of my presence, roam the deteriorating exterior and transmogrify the rust, the crumbling walls, to form beauty in which the norm could never perceive, the blinded man walking home from his 9 to 5 he ain't alive, I'm alive, when I release my pain in the most peaceful way, so whatever your perception is I create while you destroy yourself, closed minds can never build, at least I have a will, to create something that allows me to see the beauty in dilapidated matter, what's it matter? What does anything really matter, I'd rather be alone in the midst of night salvaging my mind, than thinking on my life hating myself, my job, my wife, my heart beats to the tune of the quickest tempo, few stories up hanging to the nearest bar thinking don't let go, the night unfolds as if my whole life was a lie, how come sooner I never came to discover this sight, I may be worthless to the world but I found worth in myself, ubiquitous I'm in the eyes of everybody else, sneakin out the sheets that the world has placed upon me, gazing from an uncharted scene watching everybody sleep, and as you lay unconscious I slither past insomniacs and police, initiate and vitalize the death of open space, as if I keep the gray melting pot's cultural distress to pace, I spill layers of paint to feed my only sense of greed, I'm at ease and injected with libidinal energy, the cathexis transitions to my sanity, and I watch the world unfold as it battles with me, my only army my motor skills, use of 5 senses, and contained space containing stains with controlled exits, quiesce and invisible yet felt like the wind, quietus all around the muss and the hideous, a single life strays to get up, for the love and not the lust, every sense penetrated and noticed, vibrating like the ripples sending strikes to a lotus, spray strictly CO2 to fabricate a path through the cap, scan around look back and implement the task, do you live or just exist, even when I'm put to rest I'll later be present, my creations are my friends and my doppelgangers, posthumous until the Earth seizes to see dusk, caught up, persecuted and striving infinitely, unceasingly tryna see the light in this modus vivendi.