Lies and corruption, fear and doubt,
Is it reality?
Can you feel it?
Can you hate it?
I expand my guts like an ectomorphic bag,
Creating filth and disease,
Spreading ameliorating disgust as I go,
Sailing through temporal linearity,
You fail to check.
I create my passion as I concoct my plans,
Feeling, flirting, burning, hands,
See me smile under my mask,
Hear me cry after the blast,
You fail to check.
I see my enemy in your room,
I control his mind and fulfil his doom,
So you smell me behind the chair,
Cringing, poking, sullenly aware,
You fail to check.
Is it reality that I despise,
Are they liars in my eyes,
I corrupt, destroy and hate,
Not through evil or burdening weight,
Yet what I sew is hard to grasp,
Do you check?
Will you last?