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A severed head signifies gore,without a reason sometimes,

If its an artifact,it becomes a religious symbol in no time,

Our paths are relative,or so we sometimes want them to be,

So when we are at the crossroads,we know in time,theres another one to see,

You would bleed a vessel which wont need to sails to sail,

And you would shed a tear,and it would fail to care,

A man on the train shakes his head too often,unsatisfied it would seem,

One would write senseless on patterns,deciding one's life to be,

His red eyes speak of toxic waste,exponentially seeking chastity,

He would stretch too far sometimes,show us using a coat hangar can be heresy,

We ran across such thoughts once,twice theyve shown to one,

thrice we have met them,acted upon them...none