A Victual to Our Dead Selves
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Have you ever felt the pain of possession,
Of self-worthless obsession?
Of your heart being siphoned through the mouth of Beleth at his best,
White horse and trumpets blaring and all?
Spat out as a pile of leftover dregs
Into the valley of disillusionment
Where we sift through the earth,
Looking for anything to bring us back to ourselves
Together,
Bound at our hearts by one chain
Let's go home
Bound at the throats by one rope
Let's go home
Have you ever been so empty?
Staring at your wall in bed,
Waiting so long for benediction?
That you melted into the cracks
Where silence bends and history speaks?
What did you hear?
Did you drift off to sleep?
Who did you wish would hold you in your dreams?
Together,
Bound in exile from ourselves
I will cut you from your hanging rope
Bound by a moat around our hearts
Will you cut me from my rope?
How long will we walk this road together?
We found ourselves -
These particulate dregs shaped into our form
Motion is all that we do
Our fingers lace;
The warmth of your particulate
Fills me up like a beggar's cup
You are me, and I am you