As the Roots Undo

Ignorance is bliss no wise woman's failed to mention and surely some koan suggests 'neglect leads to perfection' but the more I turn my face from the crowd the more I feel my backs' increasingly compelled for the sake of escape, to turn a knife on it

Nothing's so lucid as the promise of dreams, but these pills we found just make me sleep. There's nothing quite so pure as the written word my dear, so lets have ourselves a little poem. Until the will to speak loses urgency. Our animal indecency in

This path that we walk upon Is the collection of points that the rain has drawn. The rhythm section of the storm. By the moonlight to the gateposts of the forest, In the snowlight, we are bound for the portal of the pines. Grey as famine, on this pat

Hide the petals underneath that bedroom floorboard And they will wither without fail or success. Put the people in the hollow box they crafted, Bolt the doors and watch them perish. It's a cautious descent, so polite and pensive at first. But the onl

Rejoice, rejoice a noble birth, a prince is born. Behold the birth of violence, beasts of fang and feather cry for our concrete rapture, And if we beg to be put down, unto us the most inspired storm. A princess ravaged by her prince behold; the birth

Whispers invoke the artists of this tragically seemless, I'll fated tapestry, Blistered fingers are tending their loom. She collects the strands to braid into life. Logging the weft of an ageless, woven infinity, countless raw fibers are clawing the

Mouth the words to deny, deny the symptoms, as 'oh yeah I'm doing fine', as I've found a most endearing psycosis. Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. Desperate as I am I just can't strip bear and bleed the only purity I've known. But I lay