Silverback

Drying Stains Spell things in words uneasily
 In crowded pens
 A drying mouth's final
 Hiss of growing limbs
 Faster than the skin
 The arrows pointing to the thunder of the tanks in vacant lots
 Down dark pathways
 Special paintings line the wall
 The ghastly glow of broken saints
 The cheeks of working flames burn blue
 And spit out words see what we've done we stayed up all this life for you and now you owe this much for good
 Here on your shoulders till we're
 When at first it's all in fun once
 White's misshapen eyes glued shut then
 In Words
 In Pens
 In Limbs faster than the skin
 Sick limp of Tin on Tongue shoulders pushing through
 Cut line In Waves of Blue hiss of growing limbs live ice
 In reams of tin
 All in Crowded Pens