Deep in wood’s twig embrace
She lies beneath the leaf tessellation
Her hollow skull and hollow chest are friends with the burning winds
She is hallowed in her sloping waist
With child
She is mother bony
Woman with skinless face
She is grinless
For her jaw was stolen in ages past
Yet she is blessed with child
Her middle is heavy with boundless boy
A boy fated
To be *******
Emperor
Tyrant
King
To be lord of the shattered lands and even their scattered men
Destined to be crowned in fragments of skulls and silky fabric reds
He shall mate with fire
Be father of arson spawn
His face will be carved in Mammon’s silver toys
He will never be forgotten by any of history’s tedious scribes
Yet first he must be born
Now the winds are chanting
They push at her pudgy waist
They are chanting for the birth of the emperor ******* king
They desire the tyrant
They are the slaves of God
For they are catalysts that mold the shapes of futures’ lords
They will sing triumphant
When he is pushed through dusty hips
They will congratulate their oldest and most silent friend
He is birthed with great force
The spit of cadaverous womb
Crying shrieks in the forest
No one living to clean him
By spirits’ force he is taught
To eat the last of mother’s skin
To grow to be the friend of the whispering burning winds
He shall grow into great beast
With strength to wield the lance
He will enter the kingdoms of men
Appearing as a wild God
While he is shaping his role
His mother will often laugh
Ever since he left her
Her body was never again the same
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
Deep in wood’s twig embrace
She lies beneath the leaf tessellation
Her hollow skull and hollow chest are friends with the burning winds
She is hallowed in her sloping waist
With child
She is mother bony
Woman with skinless face
She is grinless
For her jaw was stolen in ages past
Yet she is blessed with child
Her middle is heavy with boundless boy
A boy fated
To be *******
Emperor
Tyrant
King
To be lord of the shattered lands and even their scattered men
Destined to be crowned in fragments of skulls and silky fabric reds
He shall mate with fire
Be father of arson spawn
His face will be carved in Mammon’s silver toys
He will never be forgotten by any of history’s tedious scribes
Yet first he must be born
Now the winds are chanting
They push at her pudgy waist
They are chanting for the birth of the emperor ******* king
They desire the tyrant
They are the slaves of God
For they are catalysts that mold the shapes of futures’ lords
They will sing triumphant
When he is pushed through dusty hips
They will congratulate their oldest and most silent friend
He is birthed with great force
The spit of cadaverous womb
Crying shrieks in the forest
No one living to clean him
By spirits’ force he is taught
To eat the last of mother’s skin
To grow to be the friend of the whispering burning winds
He shall grow into great beast
With strength to wield the lance
He will enter the kingdoms of men
Appearing as a wild God
While he is shaping his role
His mother will often laugh
Ever since he left her
Her body was never again the same
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