sounds of pain in the haemorrhage of a beast

the thoughts that confine

and slow down the

softer sounds of pain

as the beast in my mind

slips and slurs again

tonight; it shall sleep

but the sky is still

spinning under zero gravity

and the madness still

tastes like alcohol forbidden

on my hanging tongue

with every stupor prayer

that releases and unleashes

itself under my nerves,

the weakness manifests in

forms of darkness and

silhouettes and bulletproof

hearts lying under a pressure

and severed lust again

no more shall serpents hiss

about the aspiration and

initiation, all subdued into a

paralysing self-sedation

in the vigil of a ghostly moon

reflected under a lake

like a hallucinated mirror

glimmering in blades

swinging its pendulum knife

downwards, inch by inch

until the thoughts that

confine and slow down the

softer, senseless sound of pain

reaches the beast in my mind

and it bleeds out again.

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