Bubonic

How many times must I speak your name

So many times, too many times

Presumed to be a stone, just look how much I've bled

So much I've bled, too much I've bled

Exhausted by words that seem to pour out of me

Festering rot, cut out the rot

Frightened by prospects, what the future will bring

Bubonic lust, bubonic love

Living within, counting the sins

No antidote I cannot sure myself of this want

Can't be a need

Like an addict this fix is what I feed

Rotting, my best efforts desiccating

Slowly I realize, no form of alchemical recovery exists

Terminal attempts to stop this plague

Thoughts that should vacate continually stay

Buried deep within an untouched place

Far beyond my reach it breeds dismay

Shadow of a shadow with no face

Thwarting all attempts to grow to change

Cryptonesiac thoughts of better days

A primate on my shoulder with no name

Take a look as it seeps from me