Last night I was on the fence
feeling out my own relative survival
caught somewhere between
rock bottom and a dark place

At the end of my own wits
I thought I could paint my presence
With a flick of the wrist
Opened up to reveal the divine DNA
pouring itself out into a bath tub
that gave it away

Caught red-handed in a pool of blood
Drowning evidence
Slipping down the drains
back into the ocean of the time I killed

Doctor, Doctor
turn me into a machine
I want to feel intentionless
So the madness manifests
into some ironic twist
of self-directed fate

With a flick of the wrist
Writhing this steering mechanism
into dissonance
With my Dark Passenger
Check the rearview
The past relapses