Wouldn't That Be Novel...

Do you think I can break free from this mental cell where my eyes are pinned open but my mind is deep asleep
Self sealed
Things were getting a little wild
Why do all the bad things make me smile
Everything toxic is so out of style
I keep on staring and I can't even see
Whatever it is left inside of me
I've carried the eyes of a feral child
A torn disguise well worn and used
A wild youth with a blow torch mouth
Is certainly not easily diffused
Twenty years past my mind is bruised
Lynched and cynched like a fistful of sand
But my hands seem to be porous
I sing along with the same old song
But my voice has forgotten it's chorus
I have in my arms the book of all knowledge
But empty are all its pages
Feel the heat from the invisible flame
Snuffed without any traces
Erases everything that burns between it's covers
A warm heart that's been torn apart
Like two broken lovers
Deserted isolation fuels a letter scratched art
My pen hits the paper and creates a little spark
Maybe theres a chance some of it could survive
And burn on
Well after you and I are gone

                                                        ELI