by the bottom where the darkness runs rampant
the craves taste like a friend, the same
that shovels the grave, amends
a loose knot comes undone by neglect
just the same as the wind unties and the led hand dooms us both
when patient and resolve have simply had quite enough and giving up
condeem us
to memory.
on a lane, not the fast sort
where souls wander
and music is both disconforting and restless
on a past where the button that says delete does not exist
a blow out of sorts is localized, an open secret
to be taken out in those opressed
in this haunted house I feel no love
not that I tried hard to earn something I felt was freely given and deserved
the trickery most of all was to feel forced to leave
all you had to do was ask: order even, a prescrition to a madman on the prowl.
shot twice in the chest, once in the temple
vulnerable once, never again, a job beatifully done.
what am I waiting for feeds my paranoia
hand over fist all down the throat, forcefully
they say suicidal man regret it at the last
and with backs turned to the sky they face the ground
and the thought does not mellow the storm, perish the voices I am missing
something.
the aching of dragging chains we refuse to remove
for need of punishment is a burden not worth receiving
nor sharing neither for keeps as a lesson learnt
I broken the mystic that loving someone or something would somehow save myself
that first must be a gift born and freely given to oneself
once the mirror is pieced together and smiling back at me like I want it to.
