It's the ones that quake and quiver
Near the vacant
Lakes and rivers,
That I follow with a temper of
The hollow winds of
Winter.

Them hollow winds do
Follow them. My appetite is
Bothersome.
I crave the things I shouldn't
Lust. I pick apart and
Swallow them.

The carcass breeds a
Selfish need
To melt the pain it
Couldn't flee.
Why take its hope and set it free.
Another way to rest in peace?

A drunken swear--
A sudden stare--
And no surprise, you stumbled
There...

Words of care. Don't be the first
To make it bad 'fore it gets worse.