Silt-carriers creeping
Enigmatic tidings
-whiskering
Whiskey translucence
And ***** tonics

Age brought, silent sorrows
I wept them-slowly
For-for-getting,

I could be-
A demon cleansing wreaths
Of teeth and all
You see are leaves.

Petals grow on my skin
Talking venoms and frog-like sin
Yet people are hearing hymns,

Though my wrists are just over
Burdened bludgeonings
Theres blankness and hollows.