.
I corner slum in the woods of my hands
I am rattled beneath these gentle things that
pick my hearts like flowers, blooming, tainted
too far ahead
I might just want to rest my back into those
blue waters instead
she sings the living are dead
this place has ran out of water
and ran out of bread
my chest is illuminatedÂ
hardened and there have grown creases
on my forehead
you should have believed my ill ridden
tongue that was dipped in love
that night on my bed
it should not be called love
it has become something beyond the sort
for love becomes blind to this
and my body. you see.
is numb
this emotion is like braille
I can touch this feeling all day, learn this new language
learn its most tormented intensity
I can ride into the night naked and exposed
for the feast of wild beasts
and my arms will not shake
for you have taught me
something beyond death
-Rune
