When you don't feel

Not even the tingle in your fingers

When the Devil whispers in your ear

When you're so alone

You make friends with the cracks in the walls

Sin becomes your zen

You listen to the water drip down the pipes for solace

Even your breath is too much labor

The wind drags its fingers along the outside

The moon knocks on your window

You can hear the distant sound

Of fading drums in your chest