Sacred Skin

I play with a different Muse

 

Pushing rusty four inch nails into my shuttered eyes

As I bleed from the palms of my hands

Exposed from the pain that inserts itself into my veins

Leaves the ground coated in silver skin

Back from the lies

That live in the eyes of the forgotten

A bow to the sorrow

A gift to that I cannot control now or ever

Judge a book by how its bound

Its not the words written within but those who wrote them

I close my heart

Its bleeding in silver that cannot protect forever

In a field of poppies

I choose to remember the dead

Moonlight caresses the swell of crystalline waves

Flowers weep liberating tears tenderly on the cusp of a whim

Self inflicted hell gathered with the taste of the dirt

Gathering precious visions on the floor of the church