Knitting words into my skin
Sometimes it binds my fingers to them.
The eyes and tongue are one.
My fingers are bound to them.

Lost in a poem
called a cave.

Wearing a suit of skin too dimm
To taste or see or find the hemm.

Words are now
If the meanings then
I'll figure it out at the end
If I can't I'll just pretend.

They make makeup
For faces
That aren't mine
In the mirror
That I'm cleaning
When they're done...

I clean their toiletts
And the tile they walk on too.

If I were any less low
I'd lick their shoes.

Growing bored and beard hair
Since I don't care.

It's a massive distance around us
But at least we never curse and cuss.

Am I always confused
Or am I always just

Like the animal
Living inside of me
No not the spirit
But the old man that was

Befooooore
I was booooorn
The one that brought me here
With his dear?

People can be involved with each other but they're only truly involved with god.
Nothing can be obtained,
But a cycle back to to the thing that created it.

You have to keep
the child inside alive.
In a cage.
Locked up.
Feed it twice a week.
Enough to keep it alive
too weak to escape.
Make it your zombie.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Feed it sedatives.
Feed it poison.
Keep it inoculated.
Brainwashed.
It'll never leave you.
Bound in a small box.
Don't let it grow.
Keep it's bones broken and soft.
You have to steal its teeth.
All of em.
When it tries to bight off its tongue,
bleed out,
it will not die.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Don't let it leave.
Don't let it see you.
Don't let it see the man or the monster.
Don't scare it.
Keep it calm.
Don't let it see you.
Don't ever touch water to it.
Don't wash it. Ever.
You can't let it know it can be clean.
Teach it the truth-
That the sun is an angry god
who eats precious things like you.
Teach it the truth-
That the nest of insects inside of your brain can only be quieted to sleep by me.
Don't let it grow and touch itself.
It can't know the
functions of its form.
Wear your mask when you attack it.
The monster in its nightmare becomes something
you must mimic.
Then come in
clean-shaven
to save it.
Leave before it learns
what love is.
You must keep it estranged
because it is something
that you covet.
You must be the savior
of the child inside
and you must never let it die.
If you do,
what will become of you?

The only thing that can be believed
Is how do you feel.
I've seen it
I've blazed through the trails
Of what's real

I'd rather be alone in the woods
Starving and dying

I hang around all the leftover pieces of trash
And I don't see good really
In none of em
But I see a little piece of me
In all of em