Laceration

Hollowed by the pain,

I feel the rage coming in

Suffocating waves.

As a wreck in the streams of my bloodied kin's blood,

I dreamt of times saturnine when the festering might

Enflamed our hearts to the point where the lacerating

Was a joy...

It was a joy!

And then, when the vision's gone

And death's unformed,

I am torn.

Our eyes are enslaved by the sight of the pyres,

Cast under the yoke of our own death.

Uttermost the drugs that have led us this far:

The eyes, the poison, the vision, the might,

But still we don't probe the silence.

Here I am rolled and rolled by the stream.

The taste of foam,

The moaning of the winds.

Over

the

cracked roads,

Through the reeds

of the

marshes,

Hollow voices

blow

And the leaves

bow down

to

other masters.