I am an over-limbed sculpture.
Breaking my cheekbones, swallowing pieces, I am a vomit away from spitting up past sins and making them recent.
If my concentration falters like a spider with its limbs torn off, then I lose my home and the fly eats me.
I'm a needle in the grass.
I'm the haunting feeling that will not pass.

Shatter these windows, pull out my spirit, where has my heart gone, I can't fucking hear it.
We'll need: Hammers which will reform. Tools that can reshape the skull. Hammers, we will deform. Time with which to reshape the skull.

Debris fucking itself falling overhead.

Kick down the door. I'm inside the tower with a handgun to my temple. Grovel on the floor. I've been waiting here for hours and I can't find a way out. Haven't heard a knock in so long. Locked inside this multi-faceted polygon. The walls expand, my head contracts. I'll never find my way back.

Why did you do it? Why'd you have to get away from everything? This beast pulls tubes from the neck of the earth. (March through this hell on earth.) Biting the cords, snakes from the dirt, nature's arteries pulling me in.