nothing will work out

the past is beyond comprehension
useless
intangible
something you can never visit.

and the future
impossible to predict

so why would anyone live in anything
but the present?

this is the stress house
every nerve quakes with fear
blood vessels burst and
i can just hear the clock,
tick-tock of an aneurysm
and every voice is barking anger
no wonder why it's fear number one

his very being
casts me under the spell of
cardiomyopathy
and its so sweet, its sickening
yet
devastating, infuriating
for i have no trust
no hope
and nausea for the deals.