Personal Piece- Contains upsetting material - My name...
My name is Scandinavian
my mother is underground
& I got
no dad to tell you about
I got a TV inside my head
and the remote
belongs to the unfleshed
They speak and they sing
They tell jokes
and they drink rum
They worship the Moon and curse the Sun
So I draw the curtains
The scent of tobacco fills the air
coloring the room a dreadful grey
while they press their faces
against the veil
I am surrounded
Cradled
Hollowed out
I look down
at the gaping mouth
beneath my soles
It starts licking my toes
and engulfing me whole
I descend
slowly
The chorus becomes louder
The eyes are keen
And now I am nothing
but a heap of skin
|