clyde-yulassetar-wigginWhisper
American
The Corpse of a Diamondhere Devils all cry, it was not unlike staring at a king’s fire foaming, desperate tricks, mad fevers, not a soul felt / whether a day’s trend signifies hell, plenty of features cover the swan’s wings, but pitchforks are of smooth Vanadium / destined to serve, it will then serve destiny, earn conception inconsequential slave, free to extinguish, free to ignite