Hand Out The Dirt

Over the hill…

I through the black cat…

Picking flames…

Off four leaf clovers…

I don’t believe in…

What the majority sees…

I reject clues…

I already seen sketches…

I see things that most look through…

 

Strychnine sipping…

Tilting over…

It’s not strong enough…

To make visions Dissappear…

 

I’m soo dead…

I’m soo fed up…

I don’t give up…

I never give in…

Segregated my thoughts…

From my actions…

 

I talk through plastic…

My eyes…

Bodies of blood…

Cold ice froze the plasma…

He died from a homicide…

The blood on his coat stuck to his face…

 

Rigamortis…

Tought me…

That…

It will never go away…

Waiting for me…

Waiting for my day…

 

When the dawn…

Closes and seals…

My horror…

In face…

 

Blood Candles

I use to be the one…

Throughing the party’s…

 

I use to be the one to call…

To blow out candles…

 

No use of running from…

A excellent tracker…

 

You better prey everyday…

You better thank your God…

 

I’m the three sixty…

Of my former self held captive…