Escape, Transformation, Renewal,
These are the gifts your friendship brings,
And what is life without these things?
Stenching, stagnant, like a rotting carcass,
...
Pain as deep as a cavern,
Torrid, blistering, burn,
Bleak, withered, blight,
Pounding heart in flight,
...
Just dreams and fantasies
All tied up in heart strings,
Silken golden strings
...
Pain, pain, pain
The baby is in pain
That’s how the baby came
From a womb full of drugs
...
I think the Spanish moss became entangled in my gray matter,
taking me to a land of the dead, but not gone,
neither here, nor there,
floating somewhere betwixt this world and the next,
...
My crimson gift,
rich blood,
through my veins,
once flowing,
...
Hidden, buried away,
Afraid it will break loose one day,
It cries and screams, “Free me! , Feed me! ”
Rattling and shaking inside of me,
...