Well never has this house just felt so cold.
Five hands grasp brown fur, brown teeth, brown eyes.
And on the other side,
Its either detriment or detritus, now which one do I choose to be with you?
Am I bones to throw to carnivores, ashes, or a dirt-debt owed to earth?
But you and me, search swiftly for the teeth left on the floor,
Step quietly, pass lightly to my slumber,
Dream of, ash trees as ash boxes.
I’m safe skin to wrap her teeth in.
Are you ready?
Are you ready?
Are you ready?
Are you ready?
Are you ready?
Cuz I don’t think I ever was
Are you ready?
As confident as empty husk
If left to hang I’l surely rot
So slow to rise yet quick to rest
Just like fauna in their dying breath
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