Two way street with wires crossed,
And nothing will stand in my way...

Under pressure, tape wearing thin.
Membrane of skin, broken with one slit...

Dusty and forgotten,
Small and nothing of worth...

A tattoo scripted in my arm,
Wording so strong, never weak...

Misty clouds cover my intellect
With primary dread...

Engraved into the stone,
The mug of me...

A blunted knife, a piece of glass,
I don’t care anymore...

Destruction zone,
A one-way street of never ending torture...

Surrounded by countless illusions
That I never thought ever existed...

Clotting up prompt,
Channels through my body meandering up...

Adventuring into the unknown,
Of mystical voices and faces...

Creaking, wrenching to make,
Things work to sound...