(This may be a bit of a metaphor overload)


I shop for human stationary, it's a pain I can't describe,
arterial fractures... a splintered debris of flesh,
"all the kings men"were called, to this ugly unfortunate mess.

A memory fuck of lacerated thoughts, time of no concern,
I'm ready to test the tissue, in search of plural bliss.

I need to tell you something, I feel you need to know,
it has taken all I am, to "feel"...at all...again.

So please take care when handling, the crystal - it's brand new,
a fear of mine is looming...that you'll see i'm made of glue.

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