---

The false peace it returns now

Bizarre becomes mundane

Tripartite of my form

Is an image of the sane

Whose face was that?

And floating in the bright murk

A hypnagogic hop

Dimension collapse inwards

Till I beg Möbius to stop.

Whose face was that?

The butchery, it’s plain to see, is too much for my mind

To cease to be, now clear to me

The butchery, it’s plain to see, is too much for my mind

To cease to be....

Would be them being kind?

Whose face was that?

The stench osmosed in the air

Grotesque immures my nares

The sickness it should bring

Just simply is not there

Though begging for my death is

A hypnagogic hop

Deadening brain cells failing

The drugs seep drop by drop.