'Red'

Little is true here; it's too dark
too deep. The earth moves along
to your song. You're tied up
here in this cavern.
The ceiling hurts
you with its poison.
Sometimes it stops


to observe you. Sometimes
the snake is just as tired
as you. A body bound
by flesh and blood
fighting against itself.

Little is true here save
for what's really within
the cavern, your body
your hand. Nothing
diffuses the anger
the hiltless blade
that you're holding.
It wounds you
with its uselessness.
And it knows this.
The knife cries along
to your song, tearing
skin, weeping
your tears for you.