Anxiety pry at me with your hands demand it was all planned and now its gone to shit ship shape to only fear escapes imprisoned by my mind confined and derived from within the sin of sloth filled with dust and moths my skull is empty of meaning cleaning it out and starting anew shrewd glue that holds my synapses together tethers my consciousness light as a feather to the ground confound around and round I've lost my mind my foresight is blind my world is caving inward the word that creates my dualistic existence is tomorrow persistence in its pesterence brakes and rakes yet this obsession is my only possession this confession keeps me alive derives some meaning from this mess
