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the expanses skin holds delights
and in it's ways it's own torments
flesh, marked by it's limitations
fails to reflect the degredations
day to day miseries given by life
are both etched onto skin and soul
marking the canvases in varying ways
but few see the one under light of day
failing to believe in higher powers
and angrily afraid in the midnight hours
are many, tormented without heaven or hell
where stale blood is pungently aroused
few know the delights of the void
and love the caresses of regrets loved
know nothing other than the reviled
now, to be riven again, and shrived
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