A Long Defeat - East Of The Wall

«Scribe quickly your name, and stay to the right.

Your script is curved

It’s inclination hooks and spurts as if rushed to the end

We’ll see… This is only a glimpse.

Still, you’ve kept your head down

Where are you hiding?

And are you weak?

Are you afraid?

Did you creep each step aghast, skirting shadows, or is it what I seek?»

You called to pound the door with pointed hand, but we would burn the house

We barred the doors with guilt and bone, still we might burn the house

We would burn this house of ill regard.

Cathedral eyes were sewn to bind

You won’t storm the house.

We would burn the house

My temple, I’ve mortared lock and key alike.

All’s buried, naught to find

What am I now, torn in two?

The illusion of me becomes and confronts you

What am I, split in two?

What’s left of me will retreat from this empty

knowledge

We’ll weed out what we don’t know

I’ve cut my loss and severed a thought from mind

It plummets like a stone, and glaring back from depths to heights,

will torch the night.

Retreat from this empty knowledge.

Weed out what we

don’t know

Retreat from this broken logic

Lost in what we do not know, we’ll weed out what we don’t know

The road that lay forward was paved with my fears.

I tore at the open floor

I scurried away, and down.

Call out to the open floor

Call out to the words that bind us whole.

Call out from the weighted floor

Call out to the guards before us all.

Call out to the way

The wound was cauterized.

Burn my way and throw me off to the gate

Come fire.

Come flame.

Come home.

Burn my way.

These days were a waste

Come fire.

Come flame.

The weight of a sin’s thick fog.

Come fire.

Come flame

Burn my way.

And after all these words I couldn’t break away from its hold

Weed out what we don’t know

Shadows are fading.

The burnt walls are crumbling

The old guard is changing.

We won’t look down, where we’ve aimed for

Not before my eyes, but hidden behind my back, and grasped with blood in claw

My soul possessions are scant.

Withdraw your hands.

I’ve set my share alight

What’s beneath this?

The husk is wrapped;

its form flawed

We’ll pry the fingers back each bone from bone, all ashen, crumbled away

False.

The rest is soot and blown off.

We won’t wait.

Fall

What we’ve come digging for is dead and cold

We couldn’t wait for the beatings