Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...
Dearest Death
Learning to speak inaudible language, Sullen imperial grey into trench of the ocean depths scanning my face, her green eyes change.
Random access granted algorithm of torment after tragedy's mourning lunar red tide journal entry of the world's loss,Lives stolen by napalm.
Constantine reapplying made up personalities,Thick putrid layers of decrepit self told stories recounting a boastful history of persuasion.
Too damaged to speak,Reoccurring wounds of fateless digits,Fingers portraying the voice inside as it cries,Behind a raised aegis' reflection
Post War II
Prescription's Ill Designed Fate
Prescription's Decline
Vivid delirium nonsense
Conquest of a protagonist
Salient infantry private in uniform
Regular patient of the bomb shelter
Cold sirens dilute all daylight
Distress method of destiny
Integrate lucid anomalies
Gas ruined breathing
Lobotomy's silence
Failure of strategy
Mend in death
Medication on notice
Paranoia attention decline
Deficit lost profit disorder
Monetary guilt trip up in arms
Toxins under forced recovery sheets
Prevail against peaceful sleep
Sinking in a red tide of sweat
Ocean of beads skin fallen
Pills bleeding prescription
Sedated in overdose
Pills will prevail...
In earnest anticipation of,
VoT
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