A sustained static gaze   Oblivious to surroundings   Empty, strained, unmoving eyes   Introverted, paralyzed      A burning mass of emotions denied   Enraged by years of silencing   An accumulation of feelings suppressed   Returning to devour      Bright rays of chaos   Generated by subconsciousness   A retribution by own thoughts   Twisting the mind into fits      Fueled with pains unveiled   Burning with contamination   Set afire by disowned self-lies   They penetrate the eyes      I am I the next?   Self inflicted overload   Thoughts returning to think me away   I will I be reprieved   Or am I just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite   Internal machinery of torture      The turmoil arises   From the innermost core of denial   Shining streams of putrefaction   Reflugent with disease      In outward motion to redress the balance by retaliation   A terminal journey to relieve cognition of ability   Minds lit like candles by rejected senses and emotions   Tearing flames born in mind   Creations of self deception strained      Not to lose the grip   Humans locked in the new disease   A light by eyes unseen   Has come to burn us clean      I am I the next?   Self inflicted overload   Thoughts returning to think me away   I will I be reprieved   Or am I just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite   Internal machinery of torture      I sense the facilities of the bodily   Discorporated by the light   All my pleas denied      By my psychological enemy   The inner light unseen   I, I'm deceived by my      Receiving eyes susceptible   To the endless killing sights   Consciousness fails the grip   Substance now decreasing   Amorphous   Without shape I'm vanishing   Dematerialized      My own corrosive thoughts   Probes armed with acid tools   Disintegrated      I'm bleached out of reality   Scattered bits internally   My last transparent remains      Floating objects inanimate   Spinning into my soul   Defeated by my contents   Tables turned      I'm a thought repressed   I'm swallowed into myself   Destination, nothingless      I am I the next?   Self inflicted overload   Thoughts returning to think me away   I will I be reprieved   Or am I just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite   Internal machinery of torture      I I've been the next   My self inflicted overload   My neglected thoughts have thought me undone   I I was never reprieved   Now I know the sentence of me exquisite   Internal machinery of torture