Smelling sharp,
Line up in the graveyard.
Throw in your bones.
The pious are the sactified.

Hold the bottle,
Intermittent puddles.
Full of people.
Breathing and suffocating.

Unconvinced thoughts,
Continually misfiring.
That poisonous smell,
That soft ticking.

Pulling me closer,
To the end of the world.
Burn the spires,
Complicated regressions.

Dead mind,
Straight to stone,
Close the door on,
The shadows on the ceiling