opaque rays shining through,
the glass is hardly stained,
moving grays float to blue,
but black will be obtained,

the theme for thinking sitting with no soul round,
the mind realizes its solitude and holds onto the justice,
the ashes float like snow toward the ground,
a glass of liver demise and a stiff wrist never fusses ,

Fuck the world around him,
he'll go into his own mind,
Where thoughts of bodies swim,
and where waves of you recline,

the outline for pre -insanity.
every damn night.