The ceiling is staring back at me. An inscrutable surface of spotless white, uninspired and cold. Just like I am. And
numbed over the years. Counting 1 to 5. Feel the urge is rising. Hard to make it fit into my day. Your futile attempts
of atonement. Pull each nail out. Waiting is numbing. Out goes denial. In comes the pain. The perspiration on your
face. Call it void. Call the Emptiness, nothingness responds. Playing its dice. Out goes denial, in comes the pain.
Expanding fire and ice. Pull each rusty nail out. Feel like I’m crawling over nails. Sealing all the darkness in my
Dan Barbosa, Shipman, Manson, John Gacy, Dahmer, Ted Bundy, been living a cruel life.
Sad it’s save me from me. Tossing the stone. Tidal waves of shattered glass. Burying what’s left of me, demanding
to step down into the void, into the deep. Maybe then the voice begins to speak again. You got me swaying from
this great height. You got me standing on this hard ledge. In contradiction to my blind-sight I’m more persuaded by
my blind faith. I sharpen the blade that’s on my knife to cut out those live signs. It’s not the way to escape from you
plight. Hold it close! You try to focus, try to concentrate, not to misbehave, not to be distracted by my mind. It
doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. Tossing the stone. Maybe that’s when the voice begins to speak. Demanding to
step down into the void, into the deep. Into the deep! I’m scared if there’s nothing else and fate’s not assumption
enclosed in this tomb with no escaping. Afraid that if once impelled to let go, if my thought’s to grow to what’s
below. A trade. Life’s cruel and it’s not to change. The light’s on it’s way.
Oh, make it boil. It makes my blood boil. I say like see. Oh, make you blind. It brings on blindness to all the
violence. Scold, fell into nothingness. Prayed it was there to behold, set an uprising of hope. Halo’s bounce from
falling off. Just slow down. I feed a lot so swallow. When I claim the force to rain, can you feel the tension? Come
feel me force incision. Only wait. Lay your hands on, lay your hands on me. Let loneliness emerge. Any regrets?
When everything withers you lay your hands on. Any regrets? Before you hit the tracks lay your hands on, lay your
hands on me. Take a healthy swig and drown the pills, call the emptiness. It’s the mind that tricks. It’s the void that
kills. When everything withers you lay your hands on and deconstruction is the constant result of all ambitions to
create something great, maybe then beliefs will fade.