This is not a relapse of the flesh…

My brain turns you into monsters

Taking little pieces of my flesh

And turning me into a change you should be making yourself

My body a doormat you wipe your feet on

Leaving dirt

And wet leaves

 

I can’t tell if its’ you or me because

in my mind they are the same

as I I recoil into the moss

wrap its damp around my torso

and let myself sink…

the weight of guilt

a diamond in my chest

a treasure to be held onto

the only thing left

 

I am trying to save you

As I use the last reserves of strength to hold you up

Whilst beneath my legs snap

And my breath comes no more

 

I step into the beige

And become one with it

 

I wear the mask of a maniac

My laughter hot on your ears

As I soak you in

And try to make sense of you

So, I can spit you out again

And make people vomit.

 

Do you mind if I light a cigarette?

Because I have seen the slow death and already it has me

 

This is not a relapse of the flesh.

I have not drank from the cup of sin

Because the sin is inside of me

And I no longer need a sip to reveal my true self.