Besedila: Young Livers. Of Misery And Toil. Finger To The Pulse.

Assembled with these black tongues lashing contract and expand
As it courses through their veins watch them erase
Watch them erode writhing in some loss of control.
In a sway of their own rhythm to yearn in their lull of concern and onward?
As they sink in their haste subside in content derived from a thirst shallow.
Theirs as a harmless reflex perspective in our eyes to fall far from intent or conviction
Disassemble to burn at the excess tied tight to these words of conviction
New born trails from their teeth falls where it starts bitter