Each wall a space for a future corpse Between finger and thumb My gun rests like a pen With it I write I construct sick fantasy Ignoring thoughts of an ever thinning conscience Never lead to uncertainty With open eyes a need for this With open eyes a need for me To kill the infection infatuation my infection The rebirth a need to rest sleep takes hold on me Like a death grip through my mind I will never sleep till their death Till their death leaves my mind never to wake up To wake and not divide the dreams from life A disbelief in self no longer dormant kept realized potential in me a disbelief in self No longer dormant kept a desperation to fulfill
