po. 1: pilot

sickly flesh clings to your body
what once was supple is now rotten
you decay rapidly each day now
a walking corpse of past emotions

simple minded and feeble, you rest
cognitive function is no longer needed
your mind and vessel an empty tomb
sadly you aren’t even aware of passing

your spirit died too long ago to be remembered
gaping holes in your heart and psyche
plugging them with filth and pain
clogged with death and animosity

too weak to resurrect vitality
mind numbingly fixated on your disease
instead of yearning for the cure
you’ve found solace in the cimmerian shade

panic is now disturbingly peaceful
seduced under the tide by adrenaline
she sank her claws in deep
tangled together like secret lovers