In the Vault of Riven Bone

There is red in the white, laze of the iron head
Filled with malfunction, meaning glossed over and worn
Equilibrium fault and I slip again
Dissolving explanations never meant anything anyway
You can’t hear me
It echoes in the fragments, vault of riven bone
You can’t hear me, but maybe thats for the best
As breaking shoulders fold into this caverned chest
Seeping words drip through the cracking earth
Cram them in the brittle stone
Body of a sinking cage
Impulse degenerates, fingers fade and blur the line
Neon trails of the meaningless loss defined
Nails broken and splintered from clawing at gates of time
I no longer understand what it means to be alive
I no longer understand
Grief fills these cyclothymic depths and stills these rusting lungs
Swallowed by the shame and sorrow of what I have become
Fleeting moments of electric transparency
Lost in the labyrinth internal, they mean nothing to me
They mean nothing to me
Nothing