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Ibex

deathbed

here i am lying on vomit-soaked silk sheets

drenched in sweat and a bath of my own blood

here i am covered in sores and wrapped in rags

soaked in my own filth and silent before the

accusations of the voices speaking in the back

of my head wretched pitiable poor blind naked

dead dead dead dead it’s all true isn’t it?

it’s all true there is no excuse for a past of horrid

falls and endless sins these scars crisscross my

skin like a pattern of haunted dreams memories

of a past i’d like to leave far behind but can’t

i collapse inward hide myself from the world

they tell me to love myself but how can i forget

the way my hands gripped knives and traced

incisions into commandments and tore them

to shreds how can i forget all the faces forever

imprinted on my mind the symbols of all those

i have hurt i cover my bare skin with fig leaves

and false reputations building myself a safe

hideaway deep within the ground far far away

from the peering eyes of all those who must

not see this creature of wrath i’ve become

i stare at my reflection in pools of sulfur let

myself blend into the caverns around me

become one with the darkness and the damp

i hope no one finds me here i hope they stay

far far away and don’t come looking for me

i don’t want them to see me here in my death

yet here i am dying and crying for someone to

find me and teach me what it means to be loved