Self inflicted wounds, a convicted run rate from everything. A lie about life.
I am interrupted from everything by everything. Lifelines are ready to leave me or decieve me.
I watch myself, carefully until I cannot tell who I am watching. I am the thief king of the night! Slightly, I move past the night, as not to stir.
I drink with those that don’t know me in bars that don’t know me and I speak to infamous men.
I gracefully retreat from these scenes. I occupy myself now with the thoughts of the brave, I wage war with my senses.
Who will do this if I don’t?