Both Sides Of Its Mouth

A hammer that smashes you down.
Undoing substance - Negation of form
Becoming the salt that kills what you sow.
Becoming the dust that catches in your throat.
It lays designs, it bides its time.
The motion, the indiscriminate infliction.
All things are subject to its lacerations.
The stale infinite washes away
all manifests as a limitless grave.
Madness in the turn of the world.
It howls at the torture, sinks into its own.
Violence in perpetual bloom,
always lying in wait for you.
Scared of everything but children's games
a sentimental fairy tale from cradle to the grave.
Night creeps forward to bring your kind to an end but
You're still gilding your cowardice and playing pretend.
The ressentiment of fools when the mask begins to slip –
The hatred of a hound? You're just a whimpering bitch.
Praying for the safety of eternal sun,
You just run and run from
madness in the turn of the world.
It howls at the torture, sinks into its own.
Violence in perpetual bloom.
I have been lying in wait for you.