FLOWERING PAIN GIVE SPACE

I don't feel very well
Sickly
in a strange weigh
Panic.
Panic at every silence, except dreamless sleep.
Each surface slightly brighter,
Collapsed nerves.
A hole drooling plague
Plague, mortality and fear.
The same scene, from above.
I don't know how long this scream could last.
Eyes buckle, rupture, under sentance of life.
Forever,
Forever can exist, flowering pain give space.
I don't feel very well, I'm afflicted in a strange way.
I rip thoughts to the bone
Sever and tear guilt, forged teeth alone cutting true.

"Nothing is real"
"Nothing is real"

We,
We care, we care to a point of absolute loss,
Of terrible, terrible fear.
A hundred threads make this "Not Well",
"Don't feel
very well",
"Don't feel
So good"

Ha!

Heart falling, "photo falling", heart receding,
Heart receding?

Nails snapped in despairing strokes.

Have you ever tried that?

Have you
Ever really bitten then to the quick 'til they bleed?
Have you ever been that
Nervous and scared and stupid?
I bet you did, I bet you did it, I bet you did it a lot,
I bet you did it more than I ever did it
I bet you
Did it.
Cos you're not very well.
You're really not very well.

One mundane power of resignation is enough
To prove that you're a very sick individual.
You're fingers are sick.
They bleed like I do and I'm not well I'm rather ill.
I'm like you
And
You could lose everything,
Every connection if you just moved the sheets a little bit
And saw what's outside that scares you
So
Much.

It's a hidden memory
Pulled tighly around you like the horror of a black,
Trailing scream.
And I
Don't
Know
Quite how long
Your
Scream

Could last...

But I'll bet you
You're scared,
And
Sickly
Not a little twisted and ill.
And if I could crush the lids of your
ruptured eyes

I
Could
Gaze
At and through you,
And seal your skin
once and for all
to that
Terrible worl that
Lights
my

daze

copyright 1998 Genesis P-Orridge

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PUNKCAST 56