3,380 Pounds - Cara Neir

In some hell dug miles below, I pray

As down here, we’ve all met God

Dried mud on the wall, a portrait blessed

Peasant-bound in this hole,

So I look to the wall

And it speaks: «Sun set.

Why rest?

All fall.

We crawl.»

But as I begin to decay my bladder spirals out of control

And as I soil my cloths these lashings fall as my back begins to mold

Contour to the pain that I don’t feel in but outside

These tears of stitched lips, I cry out of remorse

Eat the bugs I’m fed,

Textures of almond brittle

Hug the chains that leave hickies on my wrists

Link all the decades before this to fake your mind

Mud God, come help: «Sun set.

Why rest?

All fall.

We crawl.»

Through eyes full of dirt you wouldn’t see much but shit

Not true;

our hope was lost before all of this

Even in my last hours I find my place and think of you

These tears of stitched lips, I don’t cry out of remorse

I cry for something more…

(atoms splitting, callous thickening, bridges burning, paradigms shifting,

something’s building)