Novena Without Faith
...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead
Oh isis... hydatyd...*
You're blood lips
Surround me in
This hallway
Cannon lust in
All this tumult...
Tied to the pathos... a revolt
You're a slur...
She's a slur...
And all the space between
Certain illusions...
Is the cause of rips...
Cracks and your face
We'll wrinkle into nothing
Floorboards and passing headlights...
Any gate will reveal
Itself to me...
As a thief in the night
Oh isis... hydatyd
