The Skin of a Snake

I can't talk while I'm swallowing a silver bone Tell me who's concocted a cure for an oral fixation Constricted by body, struck by eyes, hollowed out like night But I was never quick enough to suck the venom Rippling in hidden bites If the hooked fangs of the serpent sharpened the bloom Would you care to accept this rose When the crooked pangs break the crosses of the heart Do the tearing holes leave terror exposed I don't frolic through the gardens, I can already see and feel them Feeding on hardened hearts, drinking from the pulse of the artery Now poison gleams along the edge of every dagger I've thrown But the voices in my mind seem to pledge Exaggerations are all I've known If you took the fangs from the snake to soften the scars Would you care to accept this medicine When the crooked pangs break the crosses of the heart Do you dare shed your skin When I crawl back to the genesis All will begin with silence Can't use the flicker, bathed and un-atoned in cold To soothe or strip the ache that scathed bones hold