Morning breaks the dawn, splintering the sun through darken clouds. Nails are hammered into my crow feathered eyes, violet rakes the needles which produce the colors in my arms. Venomous veins and poisonous blood, bitten, I am the snake which survives. Painting the cracks inside the portrait of sorrow, I am drawn to the circle at 400 degrees. Sliding deeper intothe shallows everyday, falling intomy hollow, I do not cry for Alice, I will never ask or look your way. My please for help is trapped by my mares at night, demons shades me by my shadow, as for you in a forest, it will be the trees.