Mar 2020
I was reluctant
to miss the blood moon
in your clear sky.
Shame. The city was
dying in flayed arms of words,
revealing muscles.
Violence breaks
the message of Gothic
trees in prayer.
to miss the blood moon
in your clear sky.
Shame. The city was
dying in flayed arms of words,
revealing muscles.
Violence breaks
the message of Gothic
trees in prayer.
