On The Salted Wounds

He lost the fire searching for a reactor

A tongue corroded by meth pools

Stuck to a writer who's full of it in his confessions

A well-spoken liar in love with the tools

He will eat your young and you will act surprised

And all the ways your mind was working

He saw his lover only in tragedy

You're not the only one suffering and blind

Meth pools in his eyes

He is an aimless ghost

You haunt your bag of bones

On the window sill

Where the ash piles 

In years, years of self-inflicted abuse

Open your mouth and see who's coming out

Take yourself apart from the first word 

That carefully plots the doubts