Don't you think there's enough
numbers in the phone-book?
My goddess it seems
you let the weeds get out of hand.
A pandemic that finally took hold
and is siphoning the life.
How could anyone starve
with all this meat walking around?
I have a vaccine for this sickness
in a shape of a .45
but it can't fix the problem
with a simple shot in the arm.
You'll understand
when they give me my peace prize
for my generous genocide.
Let me set you free
from this pandemonius depravity.

Back then you were
more alive than dead
Opened up your mind
and took the magic to your head
The dissipating career
plummeting as you give into fear.
And somewhere close by
a comet lights up the night sky
Ice bursting into flames before our eyes.

A jester for moths;
watch the parlor trick
of collecting dust.
The quiet continuum
entertains the thought
of your wasted time.
Split between the nexus
between worlds
A home to a congregation
of Other minds.
Disintegration leads
to a disinterest
of the summation of damnation.
So the penultimate state
of objective solitude
is infected with a judging gaze.

Lesser beings
sliding through slipstreams
A bipedal virus
spreading through the veins

Ignoring the despair in my heat
as though it were the end of days
somnambulist stroll through the streets
evaporating the pouring rain
Hostility of anxious speak
and make for dangerous play
the slipknot swings slowly
cause there's only one letter left in the game
You leaking fuel, it washes over me
If it burns you, quit the autopilot
A dark passenger in your own body
while the psychosomatic symptoms
replicate without restriction
Hazard  shaded within fiction
The mending  when one becomes two
making the most of its superficial quality
If I can ignore the despair in my heart
as though it were the end of days
then in this moment  we know
what its really like to share.

Entangled amongst
the hidden strings
Avoiding threaded paths
lined with torment sweat
Fate turns her head
to my unmitigated suffering
Its punishment for
my pretentions to suit her.
But I fear I'm walking in circles
if I follow the sound of rolling thunder
where the air thickens
and feigns clarity
thus the road seams nearly unending
picking at the stitching near the feet
of a reaper whom sharpens his scythe
only for me.

How do I say i want you
through the reflections?
Could you say you love me
with different inflections?
Ill always follow you
in different directions
If you gave me your heart,
it'll have my protection.