the clockhand's groaning circles - ruins of beverast lyrics
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clutching a giant laance of br-ss
within a storm
that rushes silently
through a hallway of mirrors
drafts and visions beform me
poisoned air burns into wounds:
the missing entrails –
left behind
when my waste
was creeping to life –
hurt and bleed
festering from wounds
that time has torn
that br-ss feasts upon
… in a rhytm, in a melody …
destructive and discordant
and finally mute –
when the eyes awake
behind the senile web …
these trembling hands
won’t save my ears
from deafness
these crippled thoughts
won’t save my soul
from death.
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