I want to chew on your weird hair.

Death Grips - Thru the Walls

In the year of your oblivion
The sun whispered into you 

Blood falls
the gleam of a knife
Dripping from a trembling hand
flickering across the bedroom walls
Out of me
like dancing fireflies

My love, my heart, my soul
where have you gone?
Again and again I curse the days
as if waiting for my own return

Bring the blood 2012

Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquished number.
Shake your chains to earth like dew.
Which in sleep has fallen on you.
Ye are many - they are few.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
The Mask of Anarchy

in a crystal on a string
my soul dangles
around your neck
singing to the song of your body
it needs light
it needs love
to sustain me at this distance

oh foolish heart
you bloom and burst forth
like a flower growing into a new light
or a laughing child screaming or
the stars exhaling
you gush and break
into two

arms shaking toward sky
in vein of hopelessness
fists clench—faces tighten
and you hear their screaming
this new language
digging through your whole body 

beehive became tangled web
cloth became blindfold
and tied tight into complicity
look what you’ve dug your hands into
to feed an endless desire
as thick as the veil darkening
as black as the cloud spreading
you’ve watched it bleed
yet still can not find its source

as if one hand has no recognition of its other
you deepen the wound with your own fingers
spreading it with disparity
as cruelty leaks down every corner 
you hold onto what cannot be held
and paint a pretty illusion
like covering rust with paint

you all held eyes and went to war with the unknown