Perhaps you demons will let me sleep,
Now that I’ve fulfilled my blood soaked oath,
Now that I’ve wrung my hands and neck,
Towards the prick I nearly sway -
Remind me of normality.
Drop to your knee – in front of me
and catch these screams in bowls of bronze,
Your tongs remove my heart – my lungs.
There is no rhyme.
There is no meter.
If I cared more…
It pains. It hurts. It makes me shiver.
If only there was a pill which could deliver
the gorilla from the cage…
a star from a puddle…
the muddle from my cuddle….
the ice from my heart.