Ribbed in iron,
clad in silver,
crowned in gold-
the false bind of ties for them all to behold,
the success, ornamental, like rust spreading on tin,
while mercury oxide fills the chambers within,
while it bubbles and leaches to brain and to bone,
how else could I handle that I'm always alone?
The despair in this wormed-heart of impending disaster,
Is placated each time that my mind's damaged faster,
At the thrill of the notion that this pain may be ending,
I can't hide from my sins and I can't keep pretending.