I sharpen my knife,
I stab my own heart
to see if what comes out
is yours or mine
My chest's a hive
bees feast, my flesh to part
the buzzing, a silence so loud
from my blood they make honey wine
I spill it
I speak in tongues
rest upon my honey womb
my nature's a slave to all that you do
In my palms and shapes you shall fit
breathe deeply through my lungs
let me sleep in the silence of your tomb
my nature's turning pure in you
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
I sharpen my knife,
I stab my own heart
to see if what comes out
is yours or mine
My chest's a hive
bees feast, my flesh to part
the buzzing, a silence so loud
from my blood they make honey wine
I spill it
I speak in tongues
rest upon my honey womb
my nature's a slave to all that you do
In my palms and shapes you shall fit
breathe deeply through my lungs
let me sleep in the silence of your tomb
my nature's turning pure in you
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