Saline

Thin air in your hair brain
A mounting problem for your train of thought
Misstepping through the trip wires
A fallen arc of sweat and blood

Cheese dripping from the noose
You always were a fan of drama
And paid to see loved ones' decay
On a stage too high to reach

Blind and stinging, wet and barely living
Bound and insulated yet loose enough to lie
High and crying, wasted and dying
Made to believe there's nothing much to like

It dawned the day you knew nothing
Remember how it burned your eyes
An epitaph for no one's glory
Collecting spit from the world outside

Tilted, forced off your axis
Clenching, bound down to the edge
Relentless, overbearing in your nature
And you've always pretended to be somebody else