growing inside of me, void of not being alive
eating me up like a worm
leaving no bliss to thrive
as a doornail lying six feet under
mastered by my own germs
curled up like a baby already surrendered
my inside frondeur
fed upon by the scavengers
spending days in my darken shed
don't feel like moving
don't feel like breaking bread
on hands, deep wrinkles keep on grooving
the put up face seems to crumble
as if darkness working inside out
my being is like that of a puzzle
shattered to the ground
but lost beyond the shadow of a doubt
the only thing keeping me sane
the promised land and pleasure in pain