Liars and thieves save skin for your spirit.
Take my hand and cut at the mottled flesh.
Truly I ponder, yet still I fear it.
The ghoulish imprint of his face left fresh,
burnt brightly, a branded torch on your mind.
I’d utter the names, but it’s so unkind.

A murmur and tremble unlock the lips.
Bloodshot, goosebumped, love warbling on through.
I stab and stab and through the cracks I slip,
******* it all I don’t know what to do.
Scorch the earth, salt the sea, begin anew.
Scars be ******, they belong to me and you.

At the volcano's sill sits a stone.
Etched in its surface is your name.
I take it in my hand, down to the woods.
With a sigh I begin to dig.
Blood flecks my fingertips grinding the dirt.
Yet I continue, deeper still, waist deep now.
With mounds of dirt surrounding me,
my sweat soaked body has reached its goal.
I take the stone, I place it down gently.
It is bathed in mud of my blood and my sweat.
I emerge from the hole, and release my breath.
I take the soil and push it in, burying the stone.
It is compacted with my mud, hidden from the surface.
Nobody shall know it, but there forever it shall sit,
and I will know, and now you will too.

You made a deal.
I made a promise.
Together or apart
that smoke scented taste
ensnares and enchants
my heart and my soul.

I remember my suicide attempt plainly.
A gas mask haphazardly knit in my hand.
The hiss of helium from the tank.
The flicker of light in my father's garage.

I put the mask on my face slowly.
I felt the world begin to fade.
But then suddenly the hose released
and air was all this poor face breathed.

I was so ******* exhausted.
"Ugh suppose I'll wait another day."
Then I went to the hospital.
I took the time.
I healed
and another day never came.

Love dragged me back to the coals.
With a mask of charcoal and blood.
I remember now how the blackbird
sings the song about the dead.

I wish you could hear the words
they'll sing upon my empty grave.
I wish you knew the hollow chorus
to bring my brain back to the pains.

So now I whisper a scream
and ask for just your time.
A moment perhaps, a second.
for in the end it's yours and mine.

I can taste the purity of the blue.
Soaking through my spirit.
Offering tranquility to my mind.
These old bones are weary no longer.

I want the mud to cushion my fall
and the moonbeams to whisper
inside of my bones and scream out
"MY BOY MY BOY COME HERE AND BEGONE
NOTHING IS MERRY
NOTHING IS WON"

and I will cry tears of bloodstains and crystal
and you will look down from your perch and
shriek
"MY CHILD MY CHILD THE END IS NEAR
LOOK UP AT THE HEAVENS
WHICH YOU HOLD SO DEAR
WHISPER HER NAME AND SPIT OUT YOUR
FEAR"