(Still raw)

My hands are burning wild and my brain -it's host - invades with alien dialect and weather; even my own can't similate what it spokes, ownes, rules, laws, prays, lyrics of songs that each cell of my fingers, in acts of descontent rebellion conquest each thought of my own kind are as confused distressed child. Naive murders, victimized by their sefish non-sense perseption - toys my senses. My daily logic - lost somewhere in my own private uninvited world.