Creeks in your heart flower the moss that stagnates
blood is red rubied and frozen dead
it is protoplasmic is my guess
rooted deep check with floss
slights and rejects have numbed you sad
emotional rocks and hearty shocks
have slithered in snakey and they are sinking glad
poison is sinewed and wide spread
if there is anything sourer than sour
then it is you my lad!
any sharp look pierces in like broken glass
onlooker is enemy that you wished were dead
down eyed not syndromed so you live
breaths do come and go-life does not
violence builds in grey not escaping
though you wish with impotent futility
to give them all back
dear boy! hold on to all you got
here is another SACK!
over the brink and good gaud (with him yeah) solid dead!