Waiting for the fog to clear.
This annoyance is so near.
Can’t bring myself to look.
My fate has been carved by hook.
Words engraved into my wall.
They haunt me and taunt my fall.
I need to break free of my curse.
Before I end up in the back of a hearse.
Call me morbid but its true.
Terror runs right the way through.
Why is it not a dream?
Error state,
I can’t seem to scream.
Protocol late.
Set me free of obscene.
Run the cable into my skin.
Cannot stop my wide grin.
Pick apart my mind twisted.
Into what have I enlisted?
No reason for the smile.
I just know it’s been awhile.
Cut the cord so I can slide.
No cloud upon which I can glide.
Imprisonment in my head.
Tortured soul to which I’m wed.
Why is it not a dream?
Error state,
I can’t seem to scream.
Protocol late.
Set me free of obscene.
What is left is barely me.
This brutality won’t let me be.
More synthetic than I wish to admit.
These pieces don’t really fit.
Cleaved to parts and strung out.
All I wish to do is shout.
Torn and patched back up again.
Pain is forever at a ten.
Kill the power and let me go.
Cannot take this madness though.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 