I don my mask in the barn where the proxy lies stone, my fingers they trace
The sun sparks high to the west bringing the light through every crack throughout
First incision brings forth blood, though the mission's thirst for tears must be quenched
Mud sloshes up through his toes while dry hands pry at soft skin
Darting eyes briefly capture a glimpse of the light before the darkness encapsulates
Poking from the throat, through the gash, her adam's apple, tender and ripe
So I just whisper to her
And I know this is wrong. I know it's all wrong. Left that night. Twelve years later and now I know I can't move on
All I do now is take the apples from the orphans, because I know it's wrong
All I do now is take the apples from the orphans, because I fucking hate them
Spring returns with promise but nothing blooms
Winter spays, leaving death and black clouds to reign
Everything smells like her
Noted are the calenders that he kept
And the bobby pins once cradled by silken hair
And out there in the yard, holes that came from nowhere
He did not look down
He only closed his eyes and pitched himself into one
He threw himself into blank holes

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