A palace built with brittle bones;
so easily fractured. Yet in time
souls will walk upon the ash
under Pluto's careful watch.
Death will rise from its slumber
and surrender to the will
of the living no more.
No—
A vault of riven dreams will open
and from within
the cry of corpses
will be heard.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 8:20 PM UTC
Partition my bones,
break my soul.
Constricting every breath
as you run;
tail in mouth,
soaked in venom.
This,
our beautiful nightmare,
an infinite cycle.
Are you far enough yet to return?
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
Like apparitions
on a winter morning,
empty husks we have become.
Lingering—
cold and breathless things;
dead things.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC