Dimeatap Short Sleeves

I once cut nightmares into decaying leaves
They danced into the wind where they got lost in the turmoil
Infecting their brothers with slow simmering cyanide
Stifle your shouting; it's evolution I smell

Malcurdious is the air felt by the finger fibers
Tingles and child winks felt between each pore
I strand myself, precipice above precipice
To understand reactions, retroactive in activations

'No matter how new age you get, old age will always kick you ass'
Old states would beckon unto me, fluttery and jocular
I say sweating sweet silences 'my nightmares are bound no more'
Each pierced rhetoric styles a new-fashioned harness

In the air I smell every thought of shivers
Chills like wildfire refined through air conditioners
Scaled skin follicles shutter at the sight
Of my thought process, once proving right