The White Lights of My Vender

Envelop me,
My skin of ice,
Depression sinks,
With drowning eyes,

The clawing breath,
The tender offender,
A black hole of supplement,
The white lights of my vender,

Never has,
This prop been believable,
Never will,
These lines give me full control,
And better still,
The evil taste on my tongue,

Spits forth my undoing,
And leaves my limbs,
Scattered,
Numb

My nails bloodied and bent,
From the constant ascent,
The wall breaks around me,
As I tumble back downwards,
If you say I need finding,
I’ve already found him
I made me up inside my head,
I lie to him to keep him grounded

The mist of the mercury,
I breathe through my nose,
The taste of the chemicals,
I found on the road,

The zest of the tragedy,
Always flavored with rage,
The sadness of a madman,
Is a sadness insane,

The constant repugnance,
For my fellow-man,
I wish I could throttle with my very hands,
Cut the heart open,
Fill it all with sand,
I hear that a heart beat is in high demand

Never has,
This prop been believable,
Never will,
These lines give me full control,
And better still,
The evil taste on my tongue,

Has made me abhorrent,
Apparently honest,

But peel back the surface,

See it swarming with maggots

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