Your voice rises up like worms from the earth.

No matter how deep I bury it, it claws back out,
To think of its tenor brings me nothing but hurt.

Your voice rises up like worms from the earth;

To see its gaunt face, a fresh mound of doubt,
The day you left me you had no room for air.

Now it's me, who can't breathe, lungs filled with despair.

I may be underwater but
Maybe I'll adapt and sprout some gills.
It seems that natural selection
Has been pretty selective,
The stacks we dug long ago
Are spewing out their ash:
Burnt flesh built off the backs
Of those who can't blend in against
The chalk white trees.
Everyone knows prey comes so easily
For those whose camouflage
So seamlessly.

I surrendered my senses
to every word
that left your mouth
and landed
on my lips
silencing
all sense
of doubt

The dawn is breaking
Bones on its back,
The opposite of odes,
A reversal of a truth
We thought we once knew,
Which we were taught was true.

We cannot feed this whole army.
Not on a diet of skin and bone,
Of ash clinging to the bronchioles
And bullets plucked like
Pomegranate seeds from our skin.
The perimeter insecure.

We **** Papa, maim Mama,
When we strike out the son,
And not so much
As a thank you m’am,
A tip of the hat towards
The floor where we
Kicked our own faces in.

We’re turning this wheel in a frenzy,
So much fury at the sound
Of a full revolution,
Whirling dervish
With time sewn in the hem
So we’re right back
where we started again.

And for what?
To pay a debt
So in the black
We bleed red to cover the ink,
And whitewash over the stain?

The cost is just too costly,
We've penny pinched the flesh
To make it count.

Our holocaust is never ending:

So many tears,
Yet still a drought.

We only fear monsters in the dark;
it’s the surprise that really gets us.
When it’s light out,
it’s easier to accept them.
After all, they’re just reflection
of the wild hunters we once knew
who we’ve tamed into regression,
who now just feel neglected.

I heard someone say
Science is a noose,
Society a stool,
And philosophy
The dubious
Kick.

Well I'd say:

Society sets the rope,
Stool,
And gives the kick.

Science saves my life
Before I hit
The end of my rope.

And philosophy helps
Me cope
With the reality
That everything
I'm told to believe
By society
Was meant
to set me free,
while secretly
They said,
"Ah, Schucks!
Let's hang'em instead!"

Everyday we're tested.
It seems the world just
has a vested interest in
what we know and
what we don't.

In what we can handle,
and what we can't
or maybe won't.

It's hard, this testing.
To take everything
we've had a thought
to think, and cut it out,
spread them onto paper,
our worth bled out in ink.