COMFORT CORPSE.

COMFORT CORPSE.
sneak.

Scared of living, scared of me.
Scared of pre-paid world war three.
Scared of cancer, scared of you.
Scared of what I know I'll do.
Scared of lenses zooming in -
to film the semen on my chin.
Scared to look you in the eye.
Scared to paint my alibi.
My grand finale - My mistake.
Killing God for heavens sake.
Planting bullets in his head.
The eighth day comes - I go to bed.
I fix myself a detox dream.
Finger-fuckin' seventeen.
Pure as poison, twice as strong.
I love myself and prove me wrong.
In confidence I masturbate -
and in the evening, when I wake,
I fall apart and blame the drugs.
I wrap myself in pillow-hugz.
A sack of feathers - Comfort corpse.
All I am, summed up in noughts.
A single bed, a single cell.
I multiply and head for hell.
A place called home where demons hide.
Where love and hate live side by side.
Where no one sees the real me.
Alone in bleak insanity.
Where black thoughts swim in fractured skull.
My happiness, forever dull.
Forever broken, cold and blue.
Scared and lonely...
...Just like you?

sneak