From hell, through absent mind.

The lifes I've taken
catch up to me.
The thirst of which
is obscure, at it's finest,
is the only way back home-
ballisticly shooting out
a stampede of thoughts
and mesmerizing blood streams.

How long is it gonna take?
Must I wait long
to turn yellow
and grow out of this mole skin?

My steps grow louder,
my outgrowth is dying.