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December's Cold Winter
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Portrait of Self-Mutilation
Ah, so little time to think of things fleeting
and all that has befallen my core
A gemot of my thoughts demanding audience
treading ancient paths I bemuse
How can darkness be so deep and light so scarce?
A brooding doctrine so absurd!
Leave it, it's my pain!
It's all I know
Hands are bleeding
anger's seething
pointless rearing
I'm conceiving rot
A black lump for a heart, fraught with disdain
the semblance of a life fermented in pain!
Oblivion calling, stark
I'm full of envy, malice, dead and callous,
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breeding, brewing, festering, ravenous, hate!
In this wretched passing through life I cannot abide
the broken mirrors of my soul…
Salvation will extol in shattered remnants of the past...
A shard of sharpened glass
to make my carvings come a-fresh a canvas of flesh!
Feed her!
Won't you feed her!
Feed my unfortunate soul!
Bleed her!
Won't you bleed her!
Bleed her, my soul is a hoax!
Leave it, it's my pain!
It's all I know
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