A.18

Marco Polo

A.18


Weak 
left a lowly state as to scramble to gather up your will 
this is the foor on your neck 
this is the pressure 
and when you fall I will be there without doubt 
I get a sick sort of pleasure in holding you down 
choke 
on the stones that you've thrown 
I've collected to just cast back 
this is retribution come calling 
this is absolute 
if pain has a limit I'm pushed past far beyond 
now I pray for an answered prayer for you to be gone 
your voice is static a shadow fading 
damp and paper thing 
the sun for you shines less with each passing day 
say farewell to hideous reflection 
say so long to the trend you are 
welcome crushing devastation 
accept the shit you are.