My fingers are white like whispers and the lips that consume them are flames for lack of better things to set on fire.
My knees are red like rumors from this gossip with the floor. I haven't moved in half an hour.
Spirit come down, show us your power! Spirit come down, show us your love!
I'd tell You but I'm too afraid that this night will break into day and I'll be here without a word in reply. And I'd listen but I'm too ashamed for I know that the answer's the same
as the last time I refused to get up and try.
My eyes are as blank as bandages that cover the blood on my hands, that strangle themselves in despair.
My heart is as gold as a grave that reshuffles its tenants each day and You treat me like treasure when I throw you away.