Circle Of Dead Children

My Supernatural (Bells Ring Slowly)

Circle Of Dead Children


This wound cannot be patched 
as my blood runs gelatinous, sweet and black 
Only to be tasted by the chafed lips of the inflictor, a mirror 
The heavy-handed swift punishing judge 
whose sentence is lifelong and indifferent 
as puddles of stagnant water 
You cannot stop the bleeding with patches alone, 
as saturation will reject all but infliction 
Reparations all slide off into oblivion 
The hunter and the hunted have become one 
I was borne for self-destruction 
Borne to bleed and freeze 
Tears used to jimmy dried scabs of blood from these sheets 
Pills to control, to redirect, to attempt to unlearn 
Unsatisfied with what this world has had to offer 
Satisfaction when the heart stiffens and succumbs 
to the hunter's hands, gelatinous, sweet and black 
No more pills, no more adjournment 
The higher the walls around 
the more I will jerk them down upon me 
It has become easier to bury the bodies 
than to bury the memories and impulsive thoughts 
that serve only to confuse and burden 
One hand on the shovel, the other around my throat 
Borne to bleed and freeze 
I have broken all the warm hands that heal 
Bones snap and shatter 
Muscle tissue around the eyes stretch 
and quiver like a fish skinned alive 
The only honest satisfaction 
Cold and weak, I hope none remember 
I will be happy to forget