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Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross “A Familiar Taste”

 

 

 

Is it just me
who can see
the cold steel

 

approaching

 

 

Glinting.
Hinting.

 

And very soon to be encroaching

 

Have I invited its ice into my spire

 

Doth my protest herein request

 

Am I glass to see right through
Falsified by eyes of truth

 

Must this knife party commence
Where’s the sense
Is it too late to repent

 

Can’t I play the moot observer
Insubstantial
A tumble of weed with no choice but concede

 

Must I bleed

 

Indeed.

 

Fissure forming
Diamond slicing
Not once or twice but thrice in.

 

 

Enticing the scarlet sap to reveal
Persuasive is this steel

 

One clean motion
Slides in deeper
Such devotion
hath this Reaper

 

Beat the last my windswept heart

 

Rampart breached
Overreached

 

Inner Sanctum
Now – Beseiged.

 

Bleeding in.
Bleeding out.

 

 

Thumb to rule.
Glass half full.

 

A deluge of ripest rouge
Glugging

 

Chugging train of steaming pain
Bereft of gain
Must abstain

 

Slain.

 

Bittersweet release

 

Sword now sheathed
Fate bequeathed

 

Valve released
Jets unleashed

 

Comes the gusher

Everything must go

 

Everything.

 

Glass.
Now.
Empty.

 

 

…

 

Raise a toast

 

Swill.

 

Savor.

 

Refill.