I'll always walk the path of thorns My way will lead to cinders For all the steps that I have borne Their wake's my name in embers Holding on the patterned throat I'm drinking down the drowning words I wrote These terms rename my altered blame I'm a victim of my own design "I'll break the hand that pains me" My hands are in motion for spite Reaching out from the wound That the tongue will incite Setting free the moments reprieve To slip away at the present The ache of time can't realign For sake of this panic enlightened by misery Behind the lines Between the view Lay the signs that fall through From each mouth I crawl To gain another fall A common thread in place To fray the form in grace And sew the seem My time is forced by my hand To be within and without again I can write myself into a better place But how can I become without my own mistakes Obscene in every form I'll bite down upon the vein That keeps my body warm I breath deep the paper and ink That rest my spine upon the brink Of leaves that bid a paler lid So a verse may shudder and shrink A drop in tone from wailing drone From thumb to sheet till flesh to bone It seems as though these lines repeat In shortened space that's willed alone Why is this so familiar? My time is forced by my hand To be within and without again I can write myself into a better place But how can i become without my own space