Crossroad King, with inflamed eyes- Let me grab your throat- string blood life -and stitch it to my own Pick your nail beds, scrape your suffering into keepsake jars. Line your halls with them, present your trophies of ‘my pain is far greater’ Burn it down, defeat the one who smolders, a reminder of your…
Month: August 2019
Beget
Windowsill confessions to dust and dead flies. Seeking joy in the arms of another, but still feeling your weight around my shoulders. You’ve broken a promise neither of us made but I can’t not hold you to it. Deal- Break- er Tendril roots in my spine Puppeteer clique master Packmaster pack alone — What false…