Mental bullet wounds and tear monsoons
I'm driven all to think
Put my stock in guilt, with all the tears I spilt
I still haven't slept a wink
Just killing time by writing rhyme
The pen more painful than the sword
And to the tortured comfort "Endless"
My mind is often whored
The impermanence of my firmaments
Makes my mind writhe and twist
It's like I could prevent it
Some tiny hint I missed
The noose of my mind is flexible
It tightens, looses, wraps and burns
Subtle, supple, scerpentile
As you hang it whispers "This is what you've earned..."