Rolling rocks revealing the undead hopping toward you, eggs instantaneously hatching out the ***. Boney insects with floppy ears and jawless mandible traps chasing rats through the sewer. During the injection trials in the BT building, I always thought of life as a rat. Post-extinction forefathers grimacing at the notion of our slimy, oppressive fingers gripping their tired rib cages. Claws clapse decisively. Box one. Bucket. Box two. Repeat.

Feather & ink stunting Mount levi homage
Pressure seep breath down-under prom a colm-sink
Promise ****** weary clapse applause crash groom guage
Pressure weep mag-hindsight emotions chaff link
Panegyrize grotto seer like'n cinque
Birth of the star of the righteous calling
Death chant plead Slumber -lock- Key welm kept falling

A faint glimmer
of last nights shadowt mis(+)

Clutches to weary
                & arms  to stealth away thy
alms
Not steal but (seath)sieve

Bedowing morning
clapse on morning way side hills
while voices murmur
                 wind breaks on wall
As click to click, like snow bal
rose & trickle dow acquesent ....
      bell rings & neawly fonder toward...
  deeping in sights om in ~(re)prose, nay but a + condessed repression

tide bay thee wake &- glapse to horizon sun kist
eye for there wed thee & make of what rebedded to bloom of this old wood

I see people
who wax and wane,
who are once kind, but then come to doubt themselves.
Perhaps there is no such thing as Love.
But, if there is, it comes and leaves souls untouched. Gentle thing?

I imagine people go entire lives without warmth, who were shunted so, so as to subsist on merry blows.

Would a loving God clapse her hands down in Law? Be there some poor chap who fits the bill, t’would be one who is the master of none.

Retribution is a troubling thing.