By Subsurface

By Subsurface

Firebrick roasted
Furnace smoke
Like there was something before
A schism stoked

Sweet vinegar
Tropical spices
Tomato steam in kindle
As things memorable

Growing on a vine
A crop for harvest
In thine
Aptly able neurons

As a patch in a field
Of metallic plant wield
Slowly being overtaken
By taproot razor wires

Dig enough and it will see
The light of day once again
Beneath and suffocating
Under tendrils of laceration

Slick with the grease
Of dew drops on leaves
Hindering real growth
Favoring wire’s loathe

A thousand wishes
Fruit frost point
Overwritten
Doused in oil

Of thick
Syrupy sweet
Molasses
Grease

Set ablaze
A bonfire
A beacon
The signal

To say misty
Transgressions
Of evils
Are allayed

Fuel to a fire
That kindled flame
Under the actual soil
The ancient stew boils

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