So many call here on their way down below & I'll be here burning till the end of time. Thoughts of the falling burn from the ceiling to wall & I'll be here waiting till the end of time. And nothing here is safe & nothing here is sacred & the thing you care for most will crawl away wounded as you tell it you love it, into the dark recesses & hollowed out corners of nothing. And the last touch is always the hardest & the last touch is always the same & the last look is the one that will kill ya & the last touch is the one that will drive you insane.
And as the night fell & the gutters swelled with the roar of the pissing city & the falling balling & crawling below he sat shaking uncontrollably by the window looking over the pestilent street. And he sat & he prayed & he prayed & he sat & he prayed to St. Augustus, St Brigid, Padre Pio, patron saint of all sinners, patron saint of all fools,
patron saint of every fucking dying crawling thing beneath him, shouting out the names of the dead & forgotten.
And he cried out for Christ's sake help me! For Christ's sake get me out of here! God of all sick things get me the fuck out of here! Release me!