I awaken from what can hardly be called sleep   Starving as if I had two stomachs to feed   An ebb and tide of images in my mind of the two of you    Keeps my gut painfully empty      The tar boils and churns   The tar boils and churns      I carve out and deny these infections on my soul    And watch as they spawn a life of their own   Leaving snail trails of scars over what little of me is still pure   As they crawl towards where       The tar boils and churns   The tar boils and churns      Aborted parts of my psyche are all found nourishing themselves at these pits   Bubbling forth from the recesses of my mind    Where all I am slowly falls in   Abominations of my being incessantly teething      The tar boils and churns   The tar boils and churns