I always write my words with dirty fingers
I stain the page with sweat and blood
I smudge in grime between every syllable
And spray every sentence with dust and mud.
I always write when it’s dark outside
I hunch over my page when it’s 10pm
But, early in the morning is when my words come alive
And at 1.45 they all dance in rhythm
with pens that scratch and tear at the page
The words all sway and call my name
Howls of sorrow and shrieks of rage
Lurk in the shadows and bring me fame.
I always write my words with dirty fingers
and a dirty heart and a dirty smile
A cloud of whispering darkness always lingers
over the top of my words, clustered in a pile
- in the corner, at the top of the page
At first they are reluctant – before I change their mind
Before I coax them soft and lovingly from their cage
Making sure to leave the corrupt behind.
I always wash my words in soapy water
and hang them to dry out in the wind
It’s what I’ll pass down to my sons and daughters
So they know how to pay for my sins
So that the wind hides the secrets I have written
While my children are safe from the light
Protected by home-grown nightmares that are hidden
In bright, flowery lies that don’t know wrong from right.
And when others swallow down my dirty words
Consume every last letter and every last limb
Licking their lips and sucking their fingers
Until the last written gasp is within them.
And that is when my dirty words finally grow tall
Inside stomachs they grow taller and wider
Until they grasp quivering lungs and humanity falls
Shrouded in deceit and suffocating every desire.
I stain the page with sweat and blood
I smudge in grime between every syllable
And spray every sentence with dust and mud.
I always write when it’s dark outside
I hunch over my page when it’s 10pm
But, early in the morning is when my words come alive
And at 1.45 they all dance in rhythm
with pens that scratch and tear at the page
The words all sway and call my name
Howls of sorrow and shrieks of rage
Lurk in the shadows and bring me fame.
I always write my words with dirty fingers
and a dirty heart and a dirty smile
A cloud of whispering darkness always lingers
over the top of my words, clustered in a pile
- in the corner, at the top of the page
At first they are reluctant – before I change their mind
Before I coax them soft and lovingly from their cage
Making sure to leave the corrupt behind.
I always wash my words in soapy water
and hang them to dry out in the wind
It’s what I’ll pass down to my sons and daughters
So they know how to pay for my sins
So that the wind hides the secrets I have written
While my children are safe from the light
Protected by home-grown nightmares that are hidden
In bright, flowery lies that don’t know wrong from right.
And when others swallow down my dirty words
Consume every last letter and every last limb
Licking their lips and sucking their fingers
Until the last written gasp is within them.
And that is when my dirty words finally grow tall
Inside stomachs they grow taller and wider
Until they grasp quivering lungs and humanity falls
Shrouded in deceit and suffocating every desire.