Corrupted Blood Plague

Blue as the ice
That grips your wrist
Cold as the thunder
That quakes your bones

Smoke drop splashes
In a pool of vapor
Floating up the dust
Of ancient white rust

A bloody taste buds
And debases the pond
Once so purple pure
Now the rust floods

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

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