We have tried lay them to rest we contort and hang them from their tines. Inject these lines with absolution. Constrict and contrive as to derive that
Assembled with these black tongues lashing contract and expand As it courses through their veins watch them erase Watch them erode writhing in some loss
In the direction of the blood that runs from a fresh cut throat, we run down. From the perspective of a dead man?s eyes staring up at dead men walking
Inevitable and blatant allure contained in our realm, A degradation sees us subside. Singled out, rest assured, for these changes assimilate for become
At its core insincere, Comes close but not to touch. An obligation to deform. And we were warned and in our own reaction, Tied now to this push. Martyrs
As it pours now in from a past, I can attest to the rapport of we recall In awkward exchange if at your best and what we would call an ideal beyond us
This admiration inspired by the wicked, from the blood of the lonely and their closest closet. Closest outed outrage? Guilt, guided, guilty, guided
Innate submission, supplied for attraction, as lines are to form. Only to bury and dilute this all. And as it thickens by the moment until the crest in
It?s veiled now in our patience It?s kindled in remorse Failed as we have become what we loathe. The unrest is our patience, It?s withered to the core
Wince at thoughts of these half cocked expressions, as these are the sums of our years of warily waking. Tried and true is the waste in investments. Our
The faces we have worn adrift the seas of acquaintance. The lies we can't control, smiling as we sink to the bottom. Tongue tied, we retrace the lines
I wish these were the first words that I heard, "Welcome in dear stranger," but the red ran fast of their hands. Slight of hand receive/emit the coarse
It drives us from our path and suffocates as we are gnashing teeth into the arms that press us down. We try to recourse, redirect before we are run into
What can you sacrifice? Without dilution of introspect, integrity and call it all your own. A unique identity. An inane obscenity to formulate a work
Goodbye you bastard. Good luck motherfucker. It was out of the water and I wished I had drowned. And it's the greatest mistake. Wounds neatly placed.
It doesn't take these graceful feats to restrain these thirsts, but I am dry of lust and haste and indifference. O' this undying thirst is corrosive.
Listless and observing. Flicker and await. Is this all that soothes them? Watch in scorn. What's in these words, exchanged without comprehension? It's
Breathless, gasping as the days are swallowed. Rundown and followed by the indecisive. Intact are these staggered letters, haunting. None of them ever
