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A Song To Ruin

Million Dead

A lone voice crying in the wilderness: make the straight way for
The coming of the… a dry throat stutters on an empty vision of
Milk and honey and desolate quiet. a dry mouth falters on the
Opening blast of a song to ruin what it left behind. a bare sole
Longing for the feel of concrete, and a lone voice crying in the
Wilderness. i have these dreams when i'm feeling sick of
Unfinished patterns that i can't collate at all, of an inward
Breath in a land bereft of uncrippled figures, of an exhalation,
Of the himavant, of a pulse.