Only the Dead Rest - Kamikabe

This horrid fever bloated shell

Is beginning to squeeze my brain too tight

By miserable dreams entranced

Bleeding for these eyes to remain shut in darkness

In this conscious cycle I am trapped

Spare me this transient surge of chemical nausea

Mimicking contentedness

Pressed into my forehead

These fingertips fail to comfort my mind

Comatose descension

My psyche withers and cracks as the worm naked to the burning sun

Razor lined parasites that trace their way through my brain

I have harbored this virus inside my mind my whole life

Wallowing in a pool of vomit

Inside my skull thoughts grow sore and begin to decay

Infected, swollen, and bursting

My jaw tightens into a clench

Cranial pulse escalates to a pounding throb

I turn my focus inward, to be relieved by perpetual void

For we cannot attain in life the adoration we receive in death

I am glad to have died

And now that I am gone, I know only the dead truly rest