The Box Here I sit. Day In. Day Out. The hinge of my sanity Lies on the twitching Of my final Nerve. My Box is loud as death. I think I hear my will Breaking in silence. Here I live. Day In. Day Out. In the midst of my infections, Addicted to caffeine injections, Under a pile of rejections, In the Box of my confections. And I think I feel my soul, Melting in the cold. Here I lie. Day In. Day Out… A Body in the dessert The Carcass of a pervert, In a silent concert, The atheistic Convert, Trapped within a Box At the bottom of your heart, Floating in neglect.