going down your naked body quake the sun that eats the meadow is a suicide mother wound the tilted sky we stole its images will shatter everything we are all to nothing we yearn wounded in postures of birth going down crying in our sleep as we implore the border for the things we fear tender hands caress your shivering back the truth you bear will murder everything you are all to nothing we yearn wounded in postures of birth all to nothing we yearn wounded in masks like flowers in the tracks of loss like treading water like ailment in the veins of love like the death of a child he comes he comes breathing blood you re running down my legs the scars i bear shall witness amidst the brooding trail all to nothing we yearn wounded in postures of birth all to nothing we yearn wounded in masks