The walls cave in as thought bends
and misdirection rends reality again.
My mind's craving something
and knows it shouldn't,
The chain that tethers sanity is loose;
I've seen enough,
I tire of, it is too much,
Far too much.
Mortality, the anchor (and teleology)
of this coil.
"And he broke the bread and said",
Where's that syringe at?
There's an itch I gotta scratch!
Quote:
Line Eleven from Corinthians 11:24