Until death of the flesh, it will fuse to my skin
The golden gated community of my sin
It becomes tighter, oh so much tighter every year
My fault, I’m more gluttonous than I’ve ever been
So hard to tell, where the bone will end and the ring begin
Ah, but the removal is so very austere

Rending skin and muscle between the single bond;
It has created so many more, so many restrictions have spawned
Oh, tireless, nervous fingers pulling on the audacity
Fresh blood, so cold, spilling from the engorged veins beyond
Each drop is ashamed, a flurry of guilt for their abscond
Stride for stride, across the miles, the length, the end of my voracity

Cruor, the truth takes a form
Blessed, in suffering invested
Forever, for never
Cruor, this is the longest storm

Hollow, bones and hearts so empty
Bleeding, the devils are feeding
Gory, ah the old glory
Hollow, we share the pain- aplenty

By Tristan Standridge