The minute is hard and it walks an unfit honest mile alone.
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The truth laid out to wait rest well and die cold.
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I know the method lips drawn wide to turn and sway.
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To smile behind the biting tongue. Each of us danced well in lies.
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The hand the handle and the sword.
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Lies there are those of us who will embrace lies and yet if it comforts us we will do what lies do...
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When I confess there is no truth demons remain sleepless inlove with blood starved souls forgotten without sounds...
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Between birth and death lies will whisper deepest disintegration before the living.
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Lies fashioned with the images of angelic faces.
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IT grows into a stillness and we will responde lies can I speak of deepest deaths unseen...
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Pearl teardrops will fall from the faces of undeserved suffering... Forcing
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permanent days unmoving...
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Slicing clean but not as deep and waht equals scars will tell pain runs hard hate runs clean and on the floor your whitlings fell.
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Because this monster begets the monster...
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Myself and the thorn of fear that the selfsame well from which my laughter comes would also bleed with my tears...
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Permanent Days Unmoving
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| Downset |
