Your disease is a fucking waste of time. Turn it on when it fits your need. Never mattered that I couldn't feel a thing. Anything that you meant was forgot.
Punctured lungs. . I'm out of breath. This time I'm suffocating. I've had enough now. Too numb there's no resisting. Becoming one. With all your failure.
It goes beneath what I've done. It's bigger than the helplessness I felt. It comes around without a face. And redefines my subconscious again. . I can't be fixed.