march 23, 2020

singing to soothe 
     the thorns that
soon begin to 
    stick to my sins

i can lick this knife 
all i want-
    but do i 
really care?

bleed the blood-
cry my tears-
you taught me 
to have no fears.
you have my soul
my soul has become weak
shaking in the summer's sun-
i ask of you nothing but this one...

love this soul, pure.
as for she has seen 
   more than you know
take for granted 
    not even the air 
we share 
  she can stop 
time
& she will kill you.