and already it's corroded
the bitches of mercy
have left me here
dramatic masks adorn
the faces of kinetic water
panes of clay with electronic antlers
broadcasting all the glories of the damned
to the vortex of an empty room.
Worlds without end the emptiest parts of the life span crows and ravens prey on frozen, hungry brown bears as if it could smash through solid rock an eye on some freakist, million-to-one