Words are hungry
Etch them on my skin
And feel the thunder of the thoughtless
Something has lost its eyes on the horizon
Something too much.
Make me run a sweat
Make me run my bloody feet and knees
Make me mock myself
More morose then a cloudy morning.

Peace is someone’s hope
And another’s death
It is always give and take.
Or give and fake.
Death born in each of us
Drowning us day by day, until
I see him anchoring me on the ocean’s floor
From water to water.
From mud to mud.
Sometime’s it feels like cold fires of truth
I cannot bear with my mind.

On the weekend, I drink my happy sin
And on days I make myself a happy grin
And underneath the stretching skin of smiles
There still begs the questions of existence
And guilt and innocence,
But I keep stretching my skin tighter to taunt them
To choking deaths.

Don’t ask me the right things,
I want the lies and the skies
Not the earth my feet are grown to.
Don’t give me salvation,
I want the trouble to never have been born
And be a fake plastic life -
Until it takes me away.