---

there is no why

"Death is nothing but a moment of rest, in memory of these who died"

when the sun shone like a curse her body served

it served the dirt

and she spread herself apart

in the death of it.

separate in her pieces,

she dared rain that didn’t come

to swallow her whole like the

greedy fuck it was.

Who will I be?

Will I be with them?

Where will I be?

Will I become just like them?

when darkness trembles at night

every gush over it

their mouths dripping with you,

and singing soundless lips

howling for, for the moon

to shine its tiny whiteness

on your fields of blood,

on your rivers of cancer.

Who will I be?

Will I be with them?

Where will I be?

Will I become just like them?

It is no longer the fingers of the dream

that clutch your throat,

it is the wolves in the forest of needles,

in the eye of the withering rose.

the agony of ravage, snarling for territory.

vessels pulsing with blood,

pulsing for time

on your fields of blood,

on your rivers of cancer

"Death is nothing but a moment of rest, in memory of these who died"

leaving me with clouds

and the wolves of midnight.

singing over your meadows,

howling for the moon

on your fields of blood,

on your rivers of cancer

"Death is nothing but a moment of rest, in memory of these who died"