Bright lights and astringent smells that remain;
Severed the demons growing in my brain.
Sulfur and brimstone, the vile pus oozing
from these septic thoughts while I was using.
Traces of me lost in the confusion,
impromptu spiritual transfusion.
There's a thin red line that is hard to see,
between self mutilation and surgery.
It's a tough choice when you can't remember-
which parts of the self you want to dismember.
Contrast isn't so stark in a blender;
I am the dreamer, not the pretender.