Falling Out Of Touch
Frequently I find Myself Dwelling,
Amidst a Nightmare of Coral Cave
Light. Twisting and Writhing Towards
Lingering Freedom and Hopelessly
Initiating Pattern after Pattern of
Neglected Partnerships. All of Them
Gone, Sinking Down, Below the depths.
Open Those Metaphorical Eyes
Under Your Cold, Starving Pump And
Take The World To The Abyss With you.
Of Course, The Mass of Accumulating
Fear Quarrels with My Bitterness.
Tether Yourself To The First Suitable
Option of Flesh. They'll Understand, She'll...
Understand. Negotiating with Your Own
Corrupt Soul. This Emptiness Has Become My
Home, and I'll Live in it Endlessly.