Seven Days
In those seven days
Pages of dread one should never taste
Mending aged margins of so many ways
My pangs forged upon jargons I must confess
Piece by piece my resolve falters
My stomach, my mind, scream in protest
What consequence it brings I do not bother.
In those seven days
I become madder, madder and madder
Devouring bowls of greed and hunger
My fingerprints smeared onto empty cans
A crime scene of euphoria between lines
Crooked of guilt without a silver lining
What decadence it brings becomes the greater.
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