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Cara Neir
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3,380 Pounds
In some hell dug miles below, I pray
As down here, we've all met God
Dried mud on the wall, a portrait blessed
Peasant-bound in this hole,
So I look to the wall
And it speaks: 'Sun set. Why rest? All fall. We crawl.'
But as I begin to decay my bladder spirals out of control
And as I soil my cloths these lashings fall as my back begins to mold
Contour to the pain that I don't feel in but outside
These tears of stitched lips, I cry out of remorse
Eat the bugs I'm fed,
Textures of almond brittle
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Hug the chains that leave hickies on my wrists
Link all the decades before this to fake your mind
Mud God, come help: 'Sun set. Why rest? All fall. We crawl.'
Through eyes full of dirt you wouldn't see much but shit
Not true; our hope was lost before all of this
Even in my last hours I find my place and think of you
These tears of stitched lips, I don't cry out of remorse
I cry for something more...
(atoms splitting, callous thickening, bridges burning, paradigms shifting, something's building)
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