Stupity at its finest

My life is a lie,
it's written in the eyes,
misled between my thighs,
imagining blue skies,
whilst faking those highs,
as she cries,
herself to sleep,
I don't speak,
but get lost in the deep,
subconscious flow,
twisting and ebbing below,
guilty conscience in stow,
I can see the black crow,
underground shadows in tow,
death threatens a new low.

The smiles I thread,
whilst I dream of the dead,
corpses with no head,
walls decorated in red,
stagnant time I tread,
there's nothing to be said.

As the silence betrays,
my glassy glaze,
the haze,
my thoughts are maze,
this is not a puzzle
a psychological tussle,
the self-inflicted need to hussle,
feeding on the power,
it goes on for hours,
whimpering,
in the shadows.
she watches him as he cowers,
waiting for dawn,
protected by the sun,
he can run,
back from where he'd come,
like a little bitch to his mum,
where's the fun,
when the prey is gone,
there's none.