of suffering deep, tween pain and asleep,
and the curse still lingers like crime,
a fiendish mind wheels, still turning out deals,
and slip-sliding thoughts to begrime,
get back in your box,
begone to the nethers of mind,
bad voices are still,
mourning their loss,
in spirit i'm doing just fine,
got a grip on its throat,
bad thoughts continue to gloat,
yet the battle is mine, bloody mine...
of: p.d. "Cronic Pain"