Starved and Carved
And I smell a rat,
Naked and numb
And can’t tell that which is right
And that which is wrong
Memoir of gem war
Slaved in along.
The rapturous voice
Has left once again,
Folds frozen, bethroven by dark coloured men.
Unspeaking and leaking
The sense won’t verbalize,
Reeking and peaking
Hell bawls of re-calls shout from within
Longing for sex full of sexual sin,
Intuitive visions stand my hair on all ends
Slicing incisions pave my arm as blood pretends.