Bask within our sedentary sins
  Twitch beneath the pricks and jabs of conscience
  Enter me and the sun
  A rusted shard to draw the blood.
  The Muse, a whore at work again
  Fade the slightest sight, pine-needles dampen
  A broken blade, a stolen face,
  The epitaph – “Believe in Shame.”
  Well I’ve been dead before
  - Back before I was born
  Then entered Light, surcease of Nothing
  But merely given time
  One lowly blip of life
  Spinning to the void again.
  From the start know we are lost
  A splintered two, the both of us
  Helpless to believe in nothing.