shadows creeping
crumpled papers
clenched fists
fixes high heaping
something loud
screaming, urging
so extreme needing
always never proud
an eternity life
in moments doomed
some illusion existent
twisting a years old knife
for the pain he insists
the pounding aching
pulsing all the time
from head to fists
scattered, makes no sense
none of anything
sworn it never will
with thoughts wince
needing a break
needing an escape
needing some relief
needing to unmake
to see what he can handle
of chemicals shoved in
for a decade or so
then snuff the beating candle
