Mania The Beautiful

Mania, mania, mania!

The manic mind is a ticking bomb, a distortion field, a salving balm.

Here I lie in the cold dim light with eaten out liver and slicing rhyme.

Save me from this worm-eaten mind, the beckoning call, the self-devouring life.

I hear your distorted muffled call demanding my focus and my splayed open soul.

I will drown my vessel and mind, prevent my focus, and ignore your call.

My lips now wet, my mind awhirl. Whatever it takes I will not hear.

Damn you devil, release my soul! Get thee behind me and leave me in this hole!

I do not want this life.

Let me return to the womb, my one safe refuge, my only home.

I wish not to live; it was better to the taste when it was just a dream.

Sorrow, hatred, and terror fill me whole. Give me my revenge or let me sleep forevermore.

Burning, droning, mind split asunder…

Step back Archangel, you’re blinding me!

I hear your booming call, and sigh with succumbing. Yes, I will listen now my soul.

If enough liquor could drown you I would, if enough sin could kill you I’d know, but here you stand still judging, still reaching, still pulling.

What you are can not be cast out.

What you call I can not unhear.

What you want I must surrender.

O’ Angel of Death, face of God, I will walk your damned path.