The Demise of the Four

Touch me,

make me resonate like a medieval mandolin.

Shadow me and leave.

Paranoia... enveloping in growing madness... consciously embraced as salvation from existential monotony.

The high pitch of sharp consequences deafen me like a knife into my ears would…

I'm on the limit’s edge of intolerance towards you...

You will dissolve, through my hate, everlasting fountain of rage, pulsing from deep within me

I’m really trying to behave myself

It keeps growing... I’m trying to behave myself

It keeps growing... I’m trying to behave myself

It keeps growing... I’m trying to tolerate you

It keeps growing... I’m trying to tolerate you

It keeps growing... I’m trying to tolerate you

The muscles tense...tendons choke the flesh

intellect turns predatory, pupils focus...

I will use my voice... I will use my fists... to destroy... everything I can.

I am a catfight, mesh of teeth and claws... sunk into bloody flesh... full of subversive impulses.