cold
fingers of sticky tar
pressing on
pressure down
a deep dark well
echo chamber
the girl child's sobs
shaken at the throat
his laughter
how he
gloats gloats gloats
cold
steely glinted blades
pressing down
pressure on
a chamber
made of dank air
warm trickle
ruddy blood
mixed with muddy moss
his laughter
gleeful
at her loss loss loss
cold.

J.C. 25/11/2019 - 3.40am