I am not alive,
although I am breathing, moving, seeing, touching,
I am not alive.

I pour my sorrow into the hands of the unholy
because they make me feel less lonely,
I cling to these addictions I adore,
because I can never help but to want more.

I have become a slave to my body,
i m p r i s o n e d in this flesh longing to be free,
because on this planet there is nothing left for me.