Slices samurai in the darkness,
Red paint drops,
Glistening scarlet dew upon
Clockworks of the brain
Departed numb.

Not a salty pool
Of Depression’s aura,
Her steady heart
Is not torn in half,
As children’s crayons,
But instead is stopped in
Corruption’s traffic.

Waving away shivers
As though they were
Misguided siblings.

Stabbing sensations for
Reality’s hand smacks you
Square in the jaw.

Swearing to the man in white robes,
Holding your tongue the instant
Precaution walks in.

How could this be
Covered in black
Smelling of tasteless regret.

Drowned by wounds
Deep as your fleece
You are the mysterious
Prawn of the world,
Shaking in empty shoes,
Put on trial for letting out
The hushed screams
Your paralyzed fingers
Without the crinkled
Baby buds.

Breaks.
A second,
Your own?
Ceased babble,
Will go.
Of your soul.
Can mend,
White marks,
Upon them.