inhale the dead skin dust and cancer air

closeing the blinds his intentions cant be shared

he screams in crimson the soomth song of the razor

sift slashing and graceful grooves takes it straight no
chaser

the porceiln tub is the canvas he paints tonight.

paints the sorrows paints the failures paints the fright.

temperd by the clotting he smashes his reflection.

screams the crimson rageing by the rejection.

knowing hes  stronger than this 

he gives the the razor one last twist

and paints the canvas with his wrist

and exhales the journey that once exist.