(no subject)

[to_the_wicked]

----Psuedo-Sickness----

slivers of dread
clothes are soaked in deciet
these the ties bound
when requirements dont meet
stamina dwindles
and leaves me alone
while the rest of my friends
have all made it to home
wrapped in silvery shards
an embrace of disgust
with a stench to the bone
scented dead body musk

i feel all the fingers
that drag the dead skin
as the worms eat away holes
where there bodies fit in

like the last dying favor
a kiss of sweet taint
the enviroment withered
by the hate that we paint

for now only remains embers
of the words we once said
now immersed in the flames
and the dance of the dead