-What of Love?-
Through dialated distress;
Eyes, can't breathe.
What are these pounding nails?...drums?
Flesh...skin...face? Have I any?
Have you more...anymore
Who are you?
Who were you?
Who, like the setting sun, stole my gasp and fixed my eyes.
And yet, disappeared..But I'm in love with the stars and moon.
I can, nay, must forget the light...
But remember it I will.
Does it matter?
I'm in love under a different sky
I hate this glow
...What of love?
Cracked apart on the outside
bled right through to the inside
far left to the wrong side,
and everything becomes another.
Slithering voice, speaking of misplaced madness
This child shot herself in the womb.
And keeps getting burned by the air as the fingers keep getting longer
and the noose grows taut
one ring, two rings
and collapses into bloody eyes
and detached sighs, if only for a moment,
The clock grows dim and no reflection can be seen
only the blur of angled darkness
only this, and nothing with a fingernail to rape
and the silence becomes fake.
When it all begins again flowing down from within
Crucified by intention and violet bruised sin,
staring out from the inside powder
imperfect outside waiting....
For it to all fall
and hazel red again.