Crack!
Goes your brittle spine.
A little bite.
A little here,
a little there—
the way you snap
breaks my teeth in half.
You’ll crumble to pieces before my eyes
and I still won’t see a thing.
You’ll comb me out with your ancient teeth
all to breathe in the scent of me.
Look at me, the disease
rotting out your brain.
Beat me, again and again
through that spastic muscle;
hold me close, dear death!
Refrain;
refrain.
|