Im feeding all my pain with parts of my past... Its teeth are causing warmth, that lifts me up... To heavens mad of glass and seas of fragments... The liquid black of grace, that makes me calm... Look down at the coasts of oblivion... No balm in the surge of regrets... Dive down in this heart full of ashes... No trace, just the blankness of sense... A breath by the fever in my veins... A sign, winged with soiled charity... The reek I inhale makes me greeneyed for the fire I have missed to become... Im weeping with the rain for words of my past... The speech of festering proud sounds in my chest... Resistance in the sky, I pass the sentence... A stillborn star falls down, back in my womb... From the fire through the ashes, back in my heart...
ash, greeneyed, blankness, balm, festering