Chains attached to each limb, overlooking a deep dustbowl of sanguine emotion Yonder of memories that are being overwritten by current agonies Painstakingly trotting endlessly within corridors of corridors that are a maze of guilt and squalor I constantly dig a shallower grave each time I let my tongue reach a vowel My minds races the further I keep running with the chains into places I cannot see Making myself believe there might be vision somewhere in the catacombs Closet is a graveyard, his words are spikes, his tears burn and the scars ache when he sees the sun shine There is a hole in his heart that is inescapable Bloodline is a curse, he inherited malevolence