mother I have had a terrible night (and little confort after a bath for agitation invites madness)

dread trickles down

a thread feeling alien and abnormal

at odds with contentment, it haunts me

both awake and when I try to sleep

where to start, what is new beginnings

I was told to walk up a faint road

akin to responsability but which falls short

of a stolen reality, passed around like a drug

overdosing in digital regicide I colapse

little shine in these stars as of late,

idols  too break if dropped at thy feet

heads will shatter and pages once ripped

will go missing and the search for want of 

shall drive us mad, ever so fucking mad.

 no matter what I take, it feels off and the years

fill up, goubling sand like they want a need to kill

whoever threads the same fine line as me

deserves to be told the truth

and yet, it doesn't quite matter

I think I know an aproximation, 

a fig fragment fractured in dust and atom

together, bind and at odds with one another

in a pathway towards decay and quantum solace

from where I stand willed by bone toll alone

I feel I realize that what I am not

enveloped by a blanket sitched of what I shan't

name least it brings me cardiac unrest or once

calls upon my spirit to flee and join the tide, that fleet

well above the prison of bone and curses of breath and worry

relentless and made to suffer. 

leer and peer through the veil of systems

command the abyss to move along

I do not feel better despite the breakaway

a near death experience cannot translate thought-fly

irregardless of drug intake, they do not grant your a sweeter embrace

just as well to mean well, that's fleeting and ever

changing: one in a million baby is a statistic

and I do not feel any better for it.

a clockwork operator can design the device

but shouldn't,

a human can interrupt the course of living,

but shouldn't for this darker chapter will too pass

in the inevitability that transforms gratitude and misfortune alike

I am therefore reminded in the first chemical opening

of heart to fragile youthful love

to be called the one, I repeat it, the one

does an awful lot of reparation to otherwise disaster

for this I am convinced the young deserve their second chances.