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Chasm of Death
Grasping the sharp edge of a cold night
Perched precarious on a teetering ledge
Against a frightful depression creeping
Like wild ivy up the walls of her senses
Blood curdling like milk in sour breasts
Jam the pores where sweat accumulates
In salty puddles, hardening to stiff bristle
Scraping whole sheets of tissue from limbs
Too weak to hold or stand - and the street
Looming below like a great chasm of death
Beckoning to a reluctant and hopeless lover
It would be so easy to let go, but something
Compels her to hold tight to the ledge
When suddenly the darkness passes to light
She can at last answer the burning question
That has haunted her these Hellish days
Yes, let's go with the pink for the kitchen tiles
Grasping the sharp edge of a cold night
Perched precarious on a teetering ledge
Against a frightful depression creeping
Like wild ivy up the walls of her senses
Blood curdling like milk in sour breasts
Jam the pores where sweat accumulates
In salty puddles, hardening to stiff bristle
Scraping whole sheets of tissue from limbs
Too weak to hold or stand - and the street
Looming below like a great chasm of death
Beckoning to a reluctant and hopeless lover
It would be so easy to let go, but something
Compels her to hold tight to the ledge
When suddenly the darkness passes to light
She can at last answer the burning question
That has haunted her these Hellish days
Yes, let's go with the pink for the kitchen tiles
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