hand on the wire

from by Ritual Springs

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Hands are the wire, taps
Contempt for your most beautiful lines.
I rot, you grow.
Destruction of process.
Swallow me whole,
While I’m still alive.
Rivet ones eye.
Bearer of burden.
Swallow me whole.
Your language is lies.
I hear through the walls.
Your touch is my vice
Your in control.
I’ve lost control.

All the scratches I’ve received.
And the nicks.
And the cuts.
And the trips.
And the bumps.
They make me fall to my knees.

Violate me.
My hands are tied.
Your dysfunction keeps me alive.
Devotion and conquest.
Your hands are the wire.
Elegance faulty, I’m your design.
Planned obsolescence.
I a gadget/
I’m your possession.
You are my habit.
Abnegation signals the blind
Your hands are the wires.
My mouth is wired.

If it were just a breeze.
No dirt on my face, no elbow grease.
What would be left to wash away.

Fixation and ritual
Enslavement is progress
Carnalities, vigilance.
Perfection in distress
Information gathering
I hear through the walls.
Method obstruction.
I hear through
Your voice is like wires.


from Ritual Springs, released April 13, 2015
M.Binet, S.Foertmeyer, J.Kurzawa,



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Ritual Springs Portland, Oregon

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