Accela

The rhythm of pre-meditated harm, blacking out before the damage is done
Finding comfort in disgust, I'm backwards, I'm fucked
I'm here but my mind is gone

Too much is never enough, push the threshold pleasure never fills up
Gluttony is a rumor, the need is real
The coping is redundant but it helps me feel

Is that you, on the other side of the glass?
Am I facing divinity, or apparitions of the past?

Melting away, the glass screen shines on my face, everything I am
My eyes strain to recognize this reflection, so far from perfection, self-indulgent perception

Infatuated with self, the noise of my thoughts start playing their song
If I write the script, I will only eat my words and dry heave on self sabotage