Raised pink slugs
are more like crocodiles,
Feeding off the membrane

Snaking nerves,
sending out lightning
through my veins

Telling me,
what to think,
how to breath.
What to eat,
how to walk.
What to do,
how to live.

Pink slugs
and lightening snakes,
controlling two orbs,
that are windows
Don't look!
You'll see my ghost.
Isn't that supposed to be a soul?

Vacancy is all it can remember,
Every ambition died.
All thats left is
Eat.
Work.
Sleep.
Repeat.

Raised pink slugs,
nothing left to feed on.

Dead snakes
leaving no lightning in my veins.

Nothing to tell me,
how to breath.
So I forget