Untitled, original poem #50

all files are dark
all plants hang low
all brains are in a field alone

all now sleeping
 at the palace door
in shadows deep
 that dance

hammering our spirit
and living off the blood
lapping the red flood
 from our faces
and licking our shadows
 with black priestly tongues

i draw in this blood

i spit out these thrones



Author: Transdimensional Poet

Poet, Transdimensional explorer, fisherman.

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