Crawling.

The corrosion I feel is the hand of summer.
Crawling around and torn asunder.
Searching for saints, Locating demons. How long will I live being uneven?
And you hold the scales. Its you who is judge.

The blood thins rejoycing is dead. Corrugated skin slides off my head.
Beat,beat, beat beat, beat, beat. My existance.
A negative pull at the heart of comfort.
a receeding shadow is my only consort.
waxing and wanning in ebb and flow.
shackeled and praying, It wont let go.
And you hold the scale, it's you who is judge.

Your light is dying your shades a mist.
In your escape you wont be missed.

VoLk 2003, Los Feliz,CA