i’m , so , far , . , gone , . , nothing good ,
comes , from the time between , dusk , and , dawn , . ,
no , rights , just , . , wrongs , . , apathe- ,
-tic , i can’t even stick , to , one , song , . ,
loading up the weapon i , bought , . , when i picked ,
. , my , crypt , on the family , plot , . ,
am i too , into my , thoughts , . , maybe i’m ,
. , des- , -tined to be the first , to , rot , . ,
death , all around , me , life , dis- , -moun- , -ting ,
growing old and getting numb are both , disavow- , -ing ,
, . keep your chin , held , high , no , pou- , -ting ,
as the inner voice , disembowels , no , shou- , -ting ,
not a word , given or the punishment , goes , deep ,
, . using pain , as a cure , so , love- , -ly ,
i can turn , all of it around , but the smell , reeks ,
, . from the injuries i won’t , let , them , see ,
– D K T
D K T 