A headrush Young lust Words rest on scales Wounds left in mouth pretences Hard wired senses Skin covered with trenches of the war inside
She opens herself like a womb In denial she opens herself A brittle door shuts the pain out A subtle headshake A twist A break Blood bleeds better in lit rooms Feed someone else Mask fools self Time adds up to nothing Wicked birthing Twisted offspring
She opens herself like a womb In denial she opens herself A little more shuts the pain out
