| The salt down your face
|
| A crocodile’s tears at a racer’s pace
|
| My skin so torn
|
| Lost in attempting to be reborn
|
| All compliments lay benign
|
| A snapped cog in a crippled mind
|
| The thrill of being desired left behind
|
| As I walk towards the ruins to realign
|
| The path has gone from cobbled road
|
| To the dust and weeds of what we owned
|
| The single straw for the thousandth time
|
| This camel’s back collapsed at the line
|
| Mistakes run red, the bed’s been made
|
| We stare at a void where plans once laid
|
| Cicada’s cadence screaming out through the streets
|
| I will never fulfill that which you seek
|
| «When you look at me, you look at hate.»
|
| «When I look at you I look at hate?»
|
| «When you look at me you know what hate is. |
| I don’t know what love is.
|
| Two words I don’t like to use is 'love' and 'sorry,' because I’m about hate.»
|
| Obtuse wording
|
| Wrong language protruding
|
| Eyes within the boiled blood
|
| Spit lined jagged angel’s tongue
|
| With fervor and conviction
|
| A totem addiction
|
| Dragging palms across hips of the sky
|
| Passions and fears quietly screaming out «Why?»
|
| The path has gone from cobbled road
|
| To the dust and weeds of what we owned
|
| The single straw for the thousandth time
|
| This camel’s back collapsed at the line
|
| Mistakes run red, the bed’s been made
|
| We stare at a void where plans once laid
|
| Cicada’s cadence screaming out through the streets
|
| I will never fulfill which you seek
|
| Wounds and scars so plain to see
|
| Drenched head to toe in insecurity
|
| An ego as crutch to mask the face
|
| Constant feelings are out of place
|
| Unable to walk, stood vultures feast
|
| A feeble shell of collapse and defeat
|
| Drowned and soiled
|
| Displayed and pained
|
| I’m walking past where columns once remained |