June 28, 2011
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He gains a possession whether it be human or object
It’s in his grasp and he figures it won’t last
I see him stressing out
Trying to maneuver a predicted ending
His heart is racing, he’s pacing, and there’s not much I can do now

I see a rain storm in his eyes
I see red hues coming alive
I see the air moving from his grasp
And I see him drop and gasp
And there’s not much I can do now

He’s obsessed to the point of disease
It’s his wants becoming needs
It’s being trapped inside his mind
To the point where he can’t find himself

So I’m watching, I’m sitting, and saying everything for him
Because… there’s not much he can do right now

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