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Sean Winther

You better believe

Blades fall from heaven
Nowhere to run
Dry, dust, fire—
They cut your brain
Death by a thousand,
Thousand, thousand
Cuts and then death again
 
They ride in unison
A choir of screams
Follows them suit
Black in the night
Their light blinds you
And cuts again
Into your eyes
Scratching your cornea
Breaking the surface
Black in the night
And it burns
It burns,
It burns so bad
You want to claw
Them out—with your nails
Cut like grim teeth
Nail file on teeth
On your nails
Searing crucifying
Jesus Christ stop it
Please

1
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Mr Moonlight
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