The walls are closing in on me, time to expand my mind again; my last defence against the grim pace of life. I have finally put the knife down and picked up a pen and a handful of pills, cracking open my skull and throwing my brains at the paper, so this world can call my writings masterpieces. This master of writing is laid in pieces, broken and sobbing naked in the corners of the living-room, hiding from the knocks of the door, rocking backing forth.
I can be a pain killer,
Now watch me grill-up these chickens,
Wherever I be, weed suspicions be in us,
It’s a lot me similar to David and Goliath proportions,
Saving Private Problems,
Raging rhyming destroyer,
Wait until I get hold of,
All this weight I hold on my shoulders,
My soul dominates these golden-gates,
So…. Game over!
Courage and Knowledge mix with hate is a bonus,
Anticipate for another brain donor,
I should just escape to my other persona,
Cause I do love no one,
The world is sick,
Time to give it its medication,
Red ribbon wrapped with exhilaration,
Reward myself, a pill I page in,
Suppose to look after this commonwealth,
And still I am a patient.
Stick to what you know, so I am glued to this pen and paper and surrounded myself with memory photos of pain. I am not sure if these feverish tablets are making me sweat, or if I am crying; still not sure. Tomorrow I will be less of the same man! I can’t handle the wobble of sanity, my fingertips grip on the verge; I will plummet into insanity with my arms wide open and be engulfed into the darkness. Here we go again!