I run with no direction,
I try to hide for no reason,
I wander yet have no destination,
I crumble yet I am held together through pride,
I falter yet have nothing to falter on,

I am lost in a world that has tied tight to her pulse,
A drive that is a primal instinctive as an unconscious thought,
the pulse being the only reason why we are both still living.

When it beats I can feel her life force pulsating through me,
I crusade the same path,
I know when my snare is hurt,
I can feel her every need to reach her unknown destination,
a pre-determined instrument of love and total annihilation,
keeping me alive,
until I become a parasite upon her
skin,
Then as sudden as it has all began,
my snare will stake out to destroy me,
seeing me no longer as aid with use,
once at the top now a sheer fall from grace,
a thought ever in my consciousness,
keeping me in my place.