I lay on the floor, feeling the chore  
Of living creeping up through a poisonous door  
That leads to a future that’s already gone.  
Whatever have I done with my life,  
Except letting the dope flow down my dome?

Foam crawls from my mouth as the door rolls down,  
Pink elephants are drumming, parading wide open.  
Stars are shining as they are crying.
And the clock is ticking deeply down my aching mind.

The whole world spins, foam gushing out, the stars are begging and the clock is killing.
Shades of pink like cotton candy swirling about.

I pry open my veins, blue liquid drops  
Mixing with cotton candy as the drumming fades.  
Why do I twist and turn my veins inside out,  
Trying to fit them into the right place?

Sitting in the dark dark room,
in the corner of my mind,
in the corner of the room where the shadows loom.

The rivers of salty water flow down the river styx that guides me thru the end.
The boat is floating and flowing with screams of the unfortunate and unforgiving as the death rows thru the gates of the end.
But the end is never truly the end.

Shadow people twist their dark grins in forms that hurts,
the death is hanging over my shoulder whispering,
urging me to torment my broken mind until it falls and becomes theirs.

Theirs, theirs like a thing or a toy or like a match that isn’t destroyed.

From dust we come to dust we go, what’s the point of life, if we must die?

I sit in the pit I call a room, begging death to open the door—
But the door stays closed.


I paint my nails with the red liquid that drips from my eyes,
A chill crawls down my spine, while ashes burn away my last dose.

The voices scream through the walls,
Like nails scratching holes in the silence.
I wander the streets with tinted eyes,
Hearing only one thing—Jump.

Jump, jump, jump—on a jumpingrope through hell,
The devils laugh.

Satan smokes a joint in the corner of my mind,

Watching me like I have already lost it.

Am I in the wrong when everyone else wears the same red liquid?


I’m a ******* for the pain I give myself,
Should I break my skull against Satan’s joint,
Just to bleed and paint my nails again?