The Downing

Christian Death

The drowning"

Up for three days
Up for three days
Down underground for six more
Incisions cannot penetrate my feet
Tripping, gliding, falling numbly
Hands holding together with unwanted skin
Ripping, hiding, calling dumbly

You, in houses of mud
You, in gutter sleep – love
You, born to slaughter – swathed gloves
You dressing daughters and sons
Like you – I am broken and fragile
Like you – I am tasting my heart for the first time
Like you – I am feeding on slumber
Like you – I’ve left my eyes far behind me
Down for the count and still drowning

Sleep, the eighth day
Sleep, the eighth day
Clawed my way back to the first
No gentle fingers collapse on my eyes
Weeping, prying, struggling blindly
No sanity standing me back one my feet

I’m in an empty room
I’m burning books from you
I’m lost in bed with you
Breaking these mirrors to end all I’ve seen

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