I was walking down the street
and i realized what it had done to me.
Carborators and steel words,
they were inflamed in my throat,
but two times as powerful
as that acident that I had done.

Or was it on purpose?

I cant tell anymore because what it is
and what it's not
is meshed into silence.

I brought it up to the good one
and the other claimed it false.

I fought my way in but
clawing out is a different cycle.

I want this to taste like sanity,
fibers of fear stretch across the bedding of this body.
Without corners folded neatly
and windows washed clearly,
bring me this satelite
thats recording my regression,
this abuse that is embedded
in a  certsin valuable location.

I want it now,
more than anything
but what I need is a checkbox marked blank
stares as it reaches my lungs.
Captivating strides and notes just as powerful.
I need to brand it in
and cut it out.

By force
or
by nature.

It is sick,
it's psychology,
leave the witness crying.
Tell their subconscious it could have been
them instead.
It's ruthless and confining,
bringng me to fresher level on low.
I think I need it now,
sitting still in the jury
knowing all too well.
It never attacks...
just once.