In the mirror’s mock, a form distorts,
twisted flesh, a cruel retort.
Spectral fears in the whispering dark,
skin stretched thin, marked by stark.
Addiction’s grip, tight with need,
in the vein’s pulse, we find our creed.
A syringe of salvation, despair’s hold,
falling further from grace’s fold.
We dance with shadows on our graves,
each movement sharp, the night enslaves.
Identity spirals like smoke in flight,
chasing phantoms that flee the light.
Haunted cravings etch the soul,
dysmorphic views take their toll.
Eyes that see through layers peeled,
in every reflection, truth’s concealed.
Obsessions wrap like chains so tight,
fear-laden struggles steal the night.
Not lust, but longing to comprehend,
the depths of a mind near its bend.
Pull the curtain, let the eerie in,
a ballet of chaos, worn paper-thin.
Less of lust, more disquiet sown,
in the web of the unknown, we are thrown.