I do not hear
I choose to listen
My every look is an observation
Why bother talking when one could be speaking
My ideas circulating, my mind breathing
The day I died
My soul was high
My corpse lay on the ground
I saw my writhing motions
And the blackness all around
And my return was hardly gentle
I had not the strength to stand
With scarlet glowing eyes I fell
Having forgotten what it is to be a man

I walked home
All alone
Stumbling with spotted vision
Unsure of what I was still doing here
Existing in this plane
I live alone inside this brain
How could I explain?
Banging my head on the walls and door
Choking on the bathroom floor