There\'s this up, down, on, off emotionless gnawing in the chase.
It\'s the room of smiles where I feel the most out of place.
Imprisoned by the shores of infirmity.Each stroke digging the trench of eternity.
Love is the paste of life sticky, permanent, and discolored when it dries.
Loneliness is the victor, no matter how one tries.
The gut is the courier of truth trying to warn the watchman of consciousness who\'s always on break.
The heart is the innocuous dreamer, the victim with a beating to take.
There\'s a poetic storm with a story to tell. It\'s an analytical nightmare,
I\'m the observant over thinker manifesting my hell.