nervous hours interrupt my life
i feel the center of my body cringing tight
i point my eyes to the sky
and i know i'm alive
stepping hard-and-fast with right ideas
I hate the broken solutions you sent to me the day before
my motors run off soul-eating spite
your prevention is a refuge
a soft pillow for the traitor in my head
I'm a prisoner going through a native winter
a creature living without a coat
my occupation still nothing but a question
discussions of mortal phenomena,
temperatures risings, unhealthy hours
voices complaining
my ear pressed against the pillow
I'm begging for absolution
i ****** my hands through my chest
deep into my soul and search for a remedy
search for a way to make it right