shot through black

sometimes even the sunlight cannot save me, and the way out is still hidden. something creeps into my skin, and it looks out, and wants to destroy, everything that defies it. sometimes even the shower cannot wash it away. sometimes even you bend before it, crooked and weak and unknowing. that the heart of all beauty is seething violence. it cannot be dug out, sung out, known out. it is small and it is black, and it waits. and it destroys.