porcelain
break my neck, crack my spine,
i am merely a fly drenched in wine.
pour it down porcelain,
blood stained rich and divine.
my back hunched from the weight
of the meaning, of the voices of my
enemies screaming, teaming up on me
and i lie bleeding. blue light
beaming in the dark. aged scents
pull me deeper, draw me into the
sleeper that cradles the creeper,
the shadow looming in the dark. a
cloud in the corner, a cave in the
ceiling peeling away at my skin. he
draws me in. again he grins at my
sin and lifts my limbs weaker. do i
answer? what can i say to this
cutting cancer that keeps me
reeling? a feeling of wretched
worthless withering. slithering he
comes down from the corner and
meets me, greets me with a
crooked finger, a touch that lingers.
putrid, i melt with decay; all good
deeds of the day wasted away. i am
an insect; rotting flesh filled with
this infection of filth that floods
every fiber of my blood with stain; a
brain born brimming with blame.
pour it down porcelain.
pour it down porcelain.
pour me down porcelain.
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