purchase

That coeval songs breathe any life           
 when "why" returns like ice
in wonders here of what not where
 may be paradise

This is the torture – this the bite
 that rises now to be a sign
of echoes somewhere far from fire
 that reach through the quiet

How many times have I begged you
 to unsharpen the points of your knives
knives of enemy thoughts
 to your innocent minds

Thrash ragged or velvet
 what hides inside
Opaque or clear what guides
it to find
sacred resource to defy
 these seductions of suicide

How much bile has been told you
 How many times have a lie
been reasons you placed your trust
where the truth isn't wide

When dark that shrouds all glow
 through which graves of everything the heart may hold
  and vampires of such worth
   are all we know
Is this a time to ponder then
 what roots beneath our stems
or is it when there is still
 a trace of light

How much more will it take
 before the question is satisfied
of "what is saved of their souls"
  by those who are trying
How many times do we fake it
 before it's proven we all have been right
  screaming too much is lost here
   in sacrifice