Deserters The Plunge
I am a: prisoner of my imagination, trapped, tortured and
going mad. Lost
all sense of direction, when I lost all that I had.
Moving onward and
upward, the race to fade to black. I’ve found a way out
of here and I’m
never coming back. f..ck the world… take my life back.
f..ck the world… the
race to fade to black. Throw myself from the highest
rooftop, face up, to
perpetuate my fall from grace. Sunlight slipping through
my fingertips. My
soul and body rot in the same place. 602-52-8353 is all I
will ever be.
Nine numbers: identifiable only by blood on the concrete
and a crooked set
of teeth. Take me back. Death is what I’m after. I’m not
afraid anymore.
Can you hear my laughter?
f..ck the world.
My soul and body rot in the same place.
