The moonlight weighs heavy on my tongue
Like the chains that aid your bloodlust
And the red silk that muffles your name
I’m lost, somewhere between you and the oak tree
That still stains palms red, even years into the future
After the axe first learned of its taste for rich sap
Splinters cut into my flesh, drawing blood and egg whites
To carry the secrets of life to your lips and to my belly
Where they fade as quickly as the light held in my eyes
Teach me a lesson
Only the broken ever learn
One of humiliation and murder
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I tried to make the last three lines fit, and I hope they do. :/
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The sleep of reason produces monsters - Fransisco Goya
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Ideas are bulletproof, until you're actually at gunpoint.
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Needled stems induce a scarlet coma with flames to burn the scars.
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The sleep of reason produces monsters - Fransisco Goya
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I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. ~Richard Wright
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