Ethereal world, I seem to be in,
drunk from the past, high from pain.
I sit here, brimming with sin,
darkness, friend of my bane.
Happiness, runs around insane,
Hey! happy faces, it’s not your fault.
I am just jealous of your face,deprived of pain,
on my wounds, you sprinkle salt.
My doc says he can measure it,
my pain, in units of Dels.
Your hate’s larger than me, wouldn’t fit,
I will survive even this, that’s how it smells.
(My affinity for pain.. An attempt to codify it.)