Memory, the opiate of the weak
I choose freedom over a fix
Though an addict can never forget temptation
A dark being writhing within my intestines

Alone in darkness shovel in hand I struggle
Blisters appear on my hands as I dig a Dirty resting place
Aiming for six with the strength required for five
I will not succumb
I will not embrace self -loathing and masochistic tendencies

To survive I must finish
Finish or be buried alive
The darkness buried deep within temptation creeps into my eyes and fills my lunges
This is the rush of the sublime
Six feet is my goal and inch by inch I dig

Moving down; moving forward
Prepare to be buried alive Dirty memories
Prepare to be forgotten