s t r i c t u r e
So, I couldn't resist but place my grimy hands
On something so sweet, and something so rich,
and I fused the colours into a murky brown.
I just got caught up in a whirlpool of brightness
and it seemed so lucid to me, but then it got dark.
I sat in a room and all I could hear were those voices.
The snickers, the smirks and the stricture.
They just ate at me, and scratched at me
like the little pests that they are.
The room caved in on me, it was a shroud of guilt
that I felt and couldn't hold up.
Oh god, the weight of it was so heavy, so harrowing.
I was so unsure of what to do that I forgot to pray.
I stumbled and did nothing but
place my head in my hands, and tried to SILENCE;
The snickers, the smirks and the stricture.
I tried endlessly, relentlessly, tirelessly.
I uttered the mantra of his name over and over,
just so the old feeling, you know the one,
could encompass me again.
So, I couldn't resist but shread and dread and bed
the old feeling into a grave that it didn't deserve.
I didn't quite slam the lid, so I was grateful for that,
I listened to that tone, and the expression,
and realised it really wasn't filled with venom.
The only venom was the weight of that shroud,
killing my spine, turning the glass shards not into ice,
but nothing at all.
And damn, I tried to stifle that roar. I tried to SILENCE;
The snickers, the smirks and the stricture.
And all seems to be quiet, now. Until...
f a s t a s y o u c a n
