The makings-
all man-made illusions
Artificial lights
that imtitate my insides,
and they're hollow
like these ****** holes in my head.
  
When I die,
I want to stay here.  
  
It's the only place my soul has ever felt safe.
The only place I truly fit.
  
I belong.
  
It cradles my existence.
  
I am property...
"The ***** of morbid light"
  
Wrapped up
in it's blinding,
beautiful energy
I'm the cherry inside of the emptiness.
  
Contribution to completion.
  
This is where I thrive...
In dead silence and isolation.

Fueled by adverse thoughts,
I ******,
bend
and **** my mind
as my ink tube spits black -
  
Pure sinister damage.
  
I lick the pages.
kiss the letters.
and embrace the constant supply.
  
Call it a soul-******* abyss if you'd like -
  
I'm still alive.
  
Dancing in this inffected nature,
getting drunk on filthiness,
sleeping around with insane company
and waking up with all types of diseases.
  
But I'm not afraid...
  
  
*I'm inspired.