Paint smears like mud,
Pigment oozing through my blood,
The seeping current flowing from my mind,
Like lava from a volcano,
Spreading like tentacles from the earths core.
I drive for long periods at a time,
Never having a destination in mind,
Aimlessly, I look on the horizen,
Wondering where the Hell I'm going,
Or just where the Hell I've been...
I must drive...for the sake of driving.
It all rushes in...
I'm a Midnight Disease Runaway,
My outlook is never hazed,
I'm always aware of the role this disease plays.
I just wish I didn't have it as a career
Before I started the day!
Hypergraphia--it's so unreal,
How I write endless lines and numbers,
That wrap me up like bars of a cage that:
SURROUNDS my soul.
I FEEL SO OUT OF CONTROL.