Waking The Dead

I like the gate I dance with heavy hands,
This carnivore with no particular purpose.
I feel almost perfect when I act out
With a sneer and a twist.

I call it what I like.

I can't describe the dark effectively
To those who haven't seen it

Or more importantly... loved it so.

We keep our secrets in pocket sized coffins
That creek when we reach for a fix,
Pulling hands from cargo pant's
Caked in mud.

Isn't it nice to know you're home?

Blood soaked pillow cushions
Are where we chew through dreams
Into the sky,

Naked and always hungry.

Don't make a wish and
Tell me you've never died
When you broke your fall with a face plant.
It's only a natural inclination
To gnaw your flesh constantly.

The most we can do to save ourselves
Is love us in the best ways we know how
Until we learn a better way otherwise.

Until then, I like it.