POISON
These poisons that grab me by the ankle
like a hand out of its grave,
to hold me under the earth
in the world of the living dead,
i want to get rid of them.
The smoke in my lungs
and the liquor in my veins
no longer calm my nerves or numb my brains.
I have retrieved my heart
from the hands of a girl,
trapped it in my chest again
but it still wants out
and the chains of my ribs
can't suppress its shouts.
The instruments of convenience we created
made us the slaves of impatience
and the useless things we accumulated
don't offer nothing we can keep.
Although i have still not found
what is devouring my mind,
today was spent out of the grave
and the worms can still feast from my skin,
i have more life that i can use.
Desole pour la qualite mediocre du scannage
2 comments:
This is awesome.
thank you very much, do you write to?
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