My naive superstition forced parting glares disposed of fulfillment what have I become to deny it all my blindness lifts me up only to dilate foggy eyes and mend broken thoughts distorted by the stains of time I rest knee high in dirt and live as a reptile I leave people I’d rather know and cast them a stranger innumerate what not to do my own metamorphosis of delusion and mania the violent agony of silence this is a life where one can only hope to live alone things tare each other apart while I lay here on the ground all my mind knocked around I have lost all sense of direction
