
i yield my flesh to
the carrion feast —
strip me down to bone
to scatter me to stone
and bleach me to sun
wash away my stain
for i do grow ever weary

i yield my flesh to
the carrion feast —
strip me down to bone
to scatter me to stone
and bleach me to sun
wash away my stain
for i do grow ever weary
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badh touched my shoulder
as i held the remains of
old friends in a wooden box
i turned to the battle crow
as she leaned forward
laying her night beak
on my pale lips in kiss
numbing my flesh to tingle
well after i woke under
the reapers moon
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all out of space
all out of time
carving the sickle moon
and dancing wrists
i slip back to stone
where blood runs thick
perhaps it is home
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thrusting bare arms
into broken glass
no one needs read
these words writ
when they can be
given flow in show
and paint the floor
a crimson red
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eye closed become fells
the pale and the grey
lichen and moss the taiga
blue, sage and stained
this grows home and stone
of a passing day, lost
etch me bone and twig
paint me undercloud
sway the cattails and
rain down
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