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I feel a burn through the center,
maybe it wasn't the center.
Picking up a stripe from the rascals crown
of the dirty chisel that I felt.
Look into the tunnel.

I am within just a scare to fade a
braid of caskets eyes. I am without
a spite, its just all a sprite like a dim
shadow mist. To throw on the back of.
Look into the tunnel.

Now it all turns to foot steps.
A battle crown calling a soothe to sweep.
No fire of rain will beat the night.
Maybe it wasn't the center
Look into the tunnel.

I feel as though the hands cant crown
fingers any more. Like a dust of led
slivering my breath calls. A symbol that flickers
not just tunnels of a modern cut.
Look into the tunnel.

But its a crush, a wall burning and racing
the stream of a hands red shaft. The wheels
are like a calf, when the chest is a smoke
beginning. From a peer into a shadow
I look into the tunnel

and it shakes my hand
with the grace of a shooting death
I worry and look.
Its there somewhere a call.
Look into the tunnel.

I wrote this for when something chips away at you and it keeps on wrecking you but then you have to look into the tunnel, the good and forget the past.