you'll twist for my whims, you'll surge for my wants.
As great teeth entrap my means, my hands, my
ideals. To watch me fall away, swerving to avoid rocks.
Great peaks and valley's, who've seen me walk, and run,
and be chased. But stare on with dispassionate eyes.
Fearless cliffs meet me with calculating warmth,
edging me closer to to the embracing seas.
Winds whip at my face, rain pushes me forward.
As the waiting floor meets me I see my faceless pursuer,
The hollow man, with powerful hands… black, and cold
and tight and pressured and pain, pain, and a lack of light.
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