49

on a fucking leash
stigmata as my reins
and it pours blood down
foreshadowed guilty palms
but i'd tear my hands
from these nails
drag broken arms
and limp wrist's through hell and back
i've got to be made aware
got to reach the entrails
follow the respiratory system with ingest
I wander
a lost mind among flora
pyrotechnic palms
and heathen carvings in my skin
i'll scale the cross for you
rise atop a war ridden with plague

my nails as road spikes, ill claw
up your high heeled calves
tearing flesh from inner succubi
my mind in a different place
crimson drool follows my skull
i separate your shoulder blades
what is a god
I can anything inside my sanctum
a fleeting efreet
i'm crazed and capsized
feet in the sand
and hands digging through a troth of flesh
but this skin, my own
i'll devour muscle letting me love
letting me fear
letting me hate

48

mountains,
an easy comparision for a human being
the exterior shapped by memories
a mountain is always stern
but a human's will, is easily broken
that of a wooden doll
if you throw it, it breaks it
but we regenerate from shattered and torn
to alive and new, but hardened
but its never hard enough
because the coast will always erode
and we will always gradually let go
and hold onto the impossible
even with proper knowledge
this overcast frigid feeling
will always be familiar.

its a cold snap.
the way our chest's can be broken open
frozen with the ice age
our hearts stopped and brittle
careful to touch, because hearts do shatter

in an art form all its own
regeneration is lending its arm to the human condition
an art we can never let go
as much as the heart wants to pull out
the body pushes in
into love
and torn stories all the same.