Barren, first, the golden nest

The budding breast

Bloated with mystical, imaginary potential that paused in glory with thoughts of ghosts

Fled the ebbing, unknown wound

The disfigured prison of resonant debauchery;

Seeping through cracks, corroded with mold



Blissfully ignorant insanity

Misled prayers for sunshine in the hopeless, godless cathedral of rapid time

Like a tsunami of death, a roaring river of blood, drowning the life out of all that was good