Bloodqueen

 
Glint of chains,

torchfire searing

bleary eyes.

 

Heartswapper,

combustion is simply

the in out in out

of your vapid gypsy soul,

like white-hot lungs atop

the mountain high.

 

You plunge vicious fingers

into my chest like it was ancient Egypt,

trading out souls like switching hats,

the floor blooming like crimson plankton

seen from high above,

scouring every stain of love

from the crumbling corners of my psyche.

 

It’s time to stop the blood from running.

It’s time to stop the blood from running.

 

And self-hatred is the manifesto in your eyes,

so I burn your flag down to the ground,

hoping you’ll melt into the trap you set for me,

but nothing escapes from the pit of your mind;

my heart is no longer my own,

and I’ve forgotten what it means to be free.

 

It’s time to stop the blood from running.

It’s time to stop the blood from running.

 

You plunge vicious fingers

into my chest like it was ancient Egypt,

trading out souls like switching hats,

the floor blooming like crimson plankton

seen from high above,

scouring every stain of love

from the crumbling corners of my psyche.