You are not near me in days of the sunken sun.
In search of time and money only to consume none.
I have not obtained a gun and my life would seem empty
yet I view my image in a convex mirror
distortion of beauty has me fearful
of this ugly world I live in.
What faith should ever bother me?
Merciful savior of greed and lust, what shall Monday bring
forth for us? I deal out addictions for safety
and knives confront me
handled by ghosts.
Trap me in a wooden hut
deep into the forest so that I may not seek out humans again.