Our Mountain’s Siege

Picture This Place picked apart Piece by piece By a glacial Machine Letting forests Like moss creep Through Ice jacked Cracks in the Granite greybacks Slow saw chain teeth Cut as earth breathes As some mountain pass Gaps fill with glass An argent surface Of liquid canvas Pouring water falls Against an eternal siege

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Old Blood

Old Blood The fear never goes away. Shockwaves ripple, And atoms split, Reminding you every day. The manic paranoia and Festering afterthoughts With their aftershocks Never cease to meet your head. Things strike out at you From the thick woods With spear-tipped tendrils That seek to end upliftings. They will pierce deeply. They will severContinue reading “Old Blood”

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