MDC

Whisper a trigger, load me up, cement the story, present the book. 

Behind advertising his face is clearly evident and all I can hear is his name, shaming God, 

My God. 

The blood in my eyes trickles down to my cheeks, ceaseless migraines. 

Repetitive movements of your visit are disturbing me, the way you shuffle between white noise. 

Pages crumble between the gears of my psychotic self, only his death will medicate me. 

My God, what have I done? 

When I'm finally free I will be cured, no more suits in my living quarters, no more guns. Just my statement lying between the cryptic pages of the book. 

Another cog for human evolution filed down. 

The devil only lies on blunt human minds.