The River

Living this monstrous farce,
		grinning,
in it I see myself,
	dripping with The Wound.

The Blood of Self,
	moves through my veins,
		like the stagnant waters,
a river forever dancing, wandering.
	searching inside,
		of the slow turning years.

River oh river of my Blood,
through decay and ancient soils,
stem through your silent wastes,

	flow so slowly,
		Stream of Self.

Cause the Pain of Recollection.

Until the Sundering,
	  Silences Flowing Space.