In some hell dug miles below, I pray
As down here, we’ve all met God
Dried mud on the wall, a portrait blessed
Peasant-bound in this hole,
So I look to the wall
And it speaks: «Sun set. Why rest? All fall. We crawl.»
But as I begin to decay my bladder spirals out of control
And as I soil my cloths these lashings fall as my back begins to mold
Contour to the pain that I don’t feel in but outside
These tears of stitched lips, I cry out of remorse
Eat the bugs I’m fed,
Textures of almond brittle
Hug the chains that leave hickies on my wrists
Link all the decades before this to fake your mind
Mud God, come help: «Sun set. Why rest? All fall. We crawl.»
Through eyes full of dirt you wouldn’t see much but shit
Not true; our hope was lost before all of this
Even in my last hours I find my place and think of you
These tears of stitched lips, I don’t cry out of remorse
I cry for something more…
(atoms splitting, callous thickening, bridges burning, paradigms shifting,
something’s building)