Whispers Of A Soil Bath

Sticky fingers, wrapped in twine, tightly twisting it’s wicked way around all that I am, without and within, is this my curse, my sins final hand, the game, for I am, I am not, did I dig this hole? Or was it dug for me? it matters not anyway, for the soil falls upon me,…

Sink Within My Pathetic Sin

In the darkness of my mind, I fly, away from all I am, from this world that has imprisoned me, within this husk, you ask the questions, I shudder, I whimper, I submit, I give in, let the sin wash me under, let me, be then nothing, I’ve always been.