A headrush

Young lust

Words rest on scales

Wounds left in mouth pretences

Hard wired senses

Skin covered with trenches of the war inside



She opens herself like a womb

In denial she opens herself

A brittle door shuts the pain out

A subtle headshake

A twist

A break

Blood bleeds better in lit rooms

Feed someone else

Mask fools self

Time adds up to nothing

Wicked birthing

Twisted offspring



She opens herself like a womb

In denial she opens herself

A little more shuts the pain out