The clocks ticking,
while you are still picking,
picking at the infection,
infection in your head,
the monster you have fed,
people fled,
while you watch
and wonder
finding yourself a corner,
the lava lamp churning
and you are burning,
smell the cent of flesh burning
you look at me with hate in your eyes,
but see you do not frighten I
see I stand alone
while you are the madman
I am the sandman
you hear voices in your head
telling you that you are dead
as you enter club Med
you see colors combining’
entwining,
inclining,
but yet you do not see the smoke
the smoke that chokes you
you do not know of the vampire lurking,
murking,
looking for you
all you know of is the infection,
the infection in your head