prowling streams / by: spider hacksaw / © 2014 all rights reserved

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blood in the lung compartments, i’ve not seen such strange deviant sights, prying open eyes seared shut, welded in chains, taking meteor showers with lovers at night, cleansing difficult spirits from our skins, behind deaf ears, beneath sutured scalps, within cavernous skulls, the angry blood sucking bats hang at half mast, and the earth trembles, its heat dissipating, as the cold quenches dirt’s thirst to bleed out, hidden behind brick walls, for miles and miles and miles, molten ebony night climbs the rocks to the clouds as they sleep in sunken stone pastures, and those filters corrode voices buried deep down inside gravel pits, around, outside, beyond the cemetery walls, where we wait, carving out the light in our faces, etching the words we’ve not spoken in golden rivers and wind, the howling mind that madness brings, i follow me there, by prowling streams that bend

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prowling streams / by: spider hacksaw / © 2014 all rights reserved

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