waking up into existence is an inch too far to reach
looking around reminds an old forgotten dream
hands all purple, i may have just been frozen here for centuries
stagnating, stuck in hibernation
but what still lives is the wound
while its cause is raging in a thick vault somewhere
the empty pangs of pain still come at me
like constant stimuli that will never orgasm and end
no time, no space, just the effort for control
of my own perception of my own existence
and it's failing just a bit too hard
maybe coffee and some work
nope, bye
