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Pressing fingers against your skull

Hearing the slow and cracking sound

This torture,

This madness

Pulling hairs out

Sharp and thin like strings

The grief,

The distress

In the hands of a prophet

They sing: the end is near

Softly caving in

Crumbling in my hand

What used to be a man

Is overdue in debt

A mass of molten flesh

A carcass in decay

A past in human form

That has no right to rise

And ever

Be reborn

You’ve come to listen

Unearth the truth

A weary seeker

Not knowing what to do

Under the light

That empties out your eyes

You looked for warmth

The light is cold and bright

Unwelcoming,

Unpleasant and hostile

Your own existence

Is becoming your exile

The pumping veins in rush

Nails stretching bits of skin

The slaughtering of self

Arising from within



And covering the eyes

Protecting from the dark

Only creates the visions,

Dancing

So frightening

And vague

And silent…