It's flensing, not cleansing
We'll cut to the bone
When we catch you, we'll slice you
And bring it on home

It's a fracture to the marrow
That bleeds til you're blue
And a haircut so deep
Broken teeth come to view

Your joints crack in straining
To resist twisted cords
Muscles torn screaming
Dried blood and there's more

With hope cracking like diamonds
Faith's rotten and stinking
The grinding of axes
Leaves precious time thinking

The clanking of dream chains
That hold you down still
The weight to remember
Tortures your will

The darkness is its own death
Much harder than feeling
And all these gothic dodges
They do nothing to heal it

Well all your old dodges do
Nothing to heal it

1/8/21