Schism

My precious thoughts, they leak
Onto the sedimented rocks, they sleep.
Tread cautiously you comely woman,
As you callously walk around
You touch them and provide false hope.

The schism is tangible and inflated

Relapse and recovery a cliched cycle
Perennially disturbed, a biased trial
Exhumed feelings and morbid flesh lust
So good together, remnants of feigned crust.