The foundations to be shaken were already taken down By hands and unheard voices mistaken Of the downtrodden, low-down found out To be rotten, begotten of times and rhymes designed To ride the fine lines dividing divines
Month: September 2024
Red (a narrative horror epic)
Hooks to my teeth It pries open My mouth Chills rattle Down the base Of my skull To the marrow Of my sacrum