The Medusa

She is a saint

Her womb is a place of rejection

She washes her perfect skin quietly

and hates me for being real

Kill the lights and listen for noises to give you away

Sanctuary

I need a place where I can feel...

John James Hewitt (1931-1969) The Orchard: "It feels like we're all locked up in little cages"

"The ceiling is closing in, and the walls...

The walls are closing in - Can't you feel that?"

I will turn my eyes away

I will not turn into stone

No more accusations and lies

She's spreading her self

Flesh giving way to flesh

I watch her bones

I'm being eaten alive

Remove the eyes

Remove the eyes

Remove intentions and kill the lights

Her love is a blinding line of fire to where I stand

Her love is as cold as her desire

I'll never be free