Coenurus - Silverfish
Channel: Coenurus
Date: 2012-05-03

bear my cross like a man until i can't get up.  
and swim the filth until i can't see daylight
and carry my cross like a man, 
and once i suffocate, the cycle repeats itself then; 
breaks me down, begins again.
and bearing me down once again,
it rolls like slime.  it swallows me. 
i can't get up because i can't see daylight,
and i carry my cross like a man. 
i'm on an endless path. 
christened in grease. 
baptized in charnel;
i am putrefying.
now i can see the last things i ever try,
the efforts of the hopeless.
i am putrefying,
grasping at what time will tell when i'm gone forever,
damned to a self-inflicted hell with nothing left to do 
but claw the walls until they're bleeding.
nothing left to do but scratch my name into the sound
of nothing left to do that stops my fingernails from seeping;
nothing left to stop them weeping blood into the ground
as i dream that i'm real, all the fucking time.
all the fucking time.
i am putrefying.
grasping at what time will tell when i'm gone forever.
damned to a self-inflicted hell where i am stultified.
i am stultified now.
i am stifled, blind, 
defiled until i rot away and wither.
i am stultified. 
now there's nothing left to do that stops my fingernails from screaming,
nothing left to do but count the tiles on the ground.
nothing left to do but slice my fingers into ribbons,
and wipe them
and wipe them
and wipe them on the chimney as i dream that i'm real.
and now i'm crawling like a zombie, 
cracked like rotten tinder.
now i'm crawling on my belly,
trudging through an endless winter.
now i'm crawling like a zombie, 
cracked like rotten eggs.
and now i'm crawling on my belly,
trudging through an endless winter.
i am putrefying.
sometimes i dream i'm alone,
and i'm lost forever, bidding farewell.
now i am putrefying.
grasping at what time will tell when i'm in tarnation.
damned to a self-inflicted hell with nothing left to do that stops the silverfish from squealing,
nothing left to do but grind the silverfish to a pulp.
nothing left to do but watch the faces in the ceiling.
the faces
the faces
the faces in the ceiling.