by Matt Bruce

"Paranoid windows of perfection lead me into the veil of perception,
Succumbing upon many levels of defeat to the error of my infection,

As I contend with the pain I know is to come in the wake of my ways,
Tomorrow's deceit hastens today's retreat for the missives that fade,

Barren and empty of my plight in a shadow of a dream cast over night,
I fade to grey in the distance of a simpler fate known only as a previous sight,

Cast it upon me to devour my dreams as I've seen my intentions decline,
Bearing fate as an arrow as I hitch my sadness to those accepting the ride,

Nothing more than a caseless face in a mirror of gratuitous depth,
Nothing less than a depraved reflection of the weight of my last breath,

I bring to you this life as a torment of hate,
I bring to you these words of this life, upon my incision you relate…"