F a m is h e d

F a m is h e d From the sea of obsidian ... I arose and sliced through the air with volcanic glass ... to hear the earth weep in pain spilled blood from my eyes ... forbidden pleasure ... Cascade through sacred territory ... the puddles of unheard voices of the murdered children ... over and again they sing to me ... The only thing that I could do now is become the ground from which the dirt I am so familiar with ... so we sing as it rocks me to sleep ... asleep while I'm sleeping ... and dream while I'm leaping ... The murdered children would whisper on how they couldn't wait to be on this earth to be looked upon like feces of filth and have pain inflicted on them by the hand that never fed them ... they couldn't wait to be exposed to diseases and all the drugs that would save them for eternity ... I looked upon their trashbag suffocated bodies and broken limbs with my bleeding eyes ... and caressed them in a motherly voice ripping apart their dreams that we just spoke of ... reminding them that they were never to have the chance ... and I moved on ... without them ... and they dissolved into the forgotten memories of the never existence I appear in the corner of the room ... out of no where again it seems banging machines ... pounding against each other ... bits of metal attach to my skin They want to feel me ... they want to watch my face cringe in the sight of my torturing unconscious ... but I laugh and they are left to sink alone ... No longer where I began ... now it seems I'm where I want to be ... surrounded in blankets of crosses on the mud ... crosses of lonely hope ... Can't see my hands ... Can't hear my dreams ... Can't bare to scream now ... remaining as an inner collision from famished disillusions XXX11//01, Written December 13th, 2001 © on Dec 12 2001 08:58 PM PST   10 • 0