A Cold Loophe

I can’t keep in touch
I begin to realize that all my thoughts are pointless
And serve only to deconstrust my reality
At all odds
An army against itself
The desease spreads
As the army rips itself apart
Atop my throne from which i pivot
In and out of ignorance
I can’t help but suffer
My throne is taken from me
As i lapse into the horrors of reality
(my throne is gone)
I can’t keep in touch
Pathetic, spastic, shame and doubt spiraling into one final moment of clarity
For the day i can’t wait for it to be over
And then
It repeats
Inside seemingly infinite walls my concious hides
Creating seemingly infinite impossible distractions
Trapped atop my throne
My thoughts are reearranged
Trapped atop my throne
Tomorrow we’ll suffer again