Let's reflect, shall we.

Too much information
In magazines
Iron collars with blinking lights
Spirits walking between isles
Taste like alcohol
Tastes like a Dirty scent in my head
Snorting powdered bleach
To expel the smell

Vessels in my fingers 
Like a muddy river
Not lady fingers
No sugar
There not the same
My fingers that hold stuff
Not the same

Pain in my neck
Crack a day, sometimes twice
My Leaking stomach 
Fills this planet with shit
I feel lighter
But how does she feel
As I slip on her chest

And the rest of this 
Is like the Beginning
Complete and utter ruin
A complicated carriage
That serves moulded bread
On a stainless steel dish
Like my thoughts
Served to me 
By my reflection