burriel of something perfect

the thought grips my throat
as the razors edge digs into me
quacking in the turbulence
tearing my sky down
effortless
entrapment
sucked me down into your hole
webbed lining
fangs sharp as needles
sinking to depths unknown
leaving indentions on bone
without this maddness
night would never lift past the dawn
black and gray would blanket my world
and leave me with nothing to compair true pain too
expelling every ounce of air from my lungs
nothing hurts like betrayal
these wounds will never heal
branded on my brain so softly
hands dragging down my face
thoughts racing
faster and faster
pushing me untill i erupt
and tear the stars from the sky
killing every falling comet
just to inflict some distastefull feeling on something else
for some small form of relief
for the burriel of something perfect
makes thiese disfigurements on my soul almost bareable
untill the sun comes up tomorow