Silvers fine. Ornate in my bed.
Crystal vase, crumbs rattling heads.
Brown is pure. Veins, dont come near.
Chocolate ship, sailing through sand.
Secrets melt away. Hide the needle.

Hands on face, masquerade ball.
Mask down for the truth.
Hideous.

Did you know?
Craziness is creeping roumd the corner. Teeth welcomeness, lights. Recycling bracing.

If I crawled when there was no need to.
If I soiled myself. In the cold hard dark.
If I allowed my pulse to stain the floor.
Would there still be a tomorrow?

And this, my friends, is it. This brown bed of molten iron you call a home is doing everything in its power to ****** you.

Haha what ******* absolute gibberish.
The screen is glazed with honey.
Words. What are words when the honey is so sweet. Sweet enough to drown out insignificance.
The screen of honey is strong and is a sieve for *****.

The sudden realisation that you're toxicaly self aware is poisoness and astounding and who the **** even cares. You're a hippo you're a butterfly, a god. And you're deeply, unrepentantly alone. In your hole. Down your well. Floating in a stream up that doesn't exist.

I look like the biggest *******.
When I'm stumbling about the house watching square faces become diagonal.
They ask
Are you OK, why are you looking at me like that?
Am alrigghhtt, am jusstt lucking.
Silly square heads being all diagonal.
Leave me to be a *******