Black Lite
my pain grows tall like sugar cane
destroying my mental state with decay
a chemical labotomy to part east from west
the subculture of my dementia united in fear
to haunt the infrastructure of this ghost
to rebuke the host from his agitated abode
to row down stream to go under the phantom
to drown the spirit in hollows of my mental
state
wax up the leaking sieve to drain more pain
to set me free from my grooves of pain
and wallow in the pain in drooves
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