baliit:

birds shoot from the trees, piercing clouds - the crows like black daggers. their feathers cut, their feathers fall. they graze your cheeks and become stuck in your jet black hair, like coal upon coal, as dark devours you. ravens flock around their prey - you, their king. the blackbird. with spread wings you scream, i rule, you declare, i conquer. and no beast can stop me, you, myself, for this is your ravenous dream, feral and vile, like the claws you grasp the world with. the claws that squeeze your throat and leave you gasping for more, more ! for this vehemence, it buds in you, buds in me, embedded in humanity. and it will swerve, this feeling. spill from behind pungent teeth, drip from bloodied, bitten lips. but it will be theirs - their blood and weeping screams that drown dark tree trunks with a deluge like no other this century. and the water is black, glistening red below leafless trees. and in this land where you were born, even you will learn to fear your own mirage, carnage, writhing predicament - monstrosity. yet you were born to ravish. cherish. take everything back like wine - tinged dreams, deprive everything of grey - scale mayhem, snatch all away in this cruel reciprocity. now look at yourself again, in scorn, in contempt - are you content ? ( your voice has vanished, ) no, you mouth, i will not be stagnant. i will not bow - now clench your fists. 

                                          for i am wretched, i am just.