sorrow of the moon

thirteen winters my heart

has endured and worn me

as a frost

that cot where innocence

took it’s oblivious root has

been squabbled over by rooks

playgrounds of adult weathers

sometimes a tooth would be

lost, i curl my colours tightly

i would keep the squalls of

narrow yet fierce rain in

seldom glanced at lockets

a lifetime i would find an

entire sea collected white

as those frosts that wore me

now is entangled and fearful

creeps amongst my breath,

this stamina of pink so hidden

wolves are upon and at every

nerve ending coldly eyeing

observing the tides of blood

and which proteins make certain

buildings, a tightrope across the

wind, balancing across tigers

fifteen now and those winters

i wear well, tho’ waking is

patrolled by inch mad churches

that seed should have withered

i pursue it’s swell tho’ fathoms

it’s tiny fingerprints seek out

swastikas of democracy, courts

of gallows, seventeen men are

put to quiet

i am in a shadow’s lending

taking tears to their graveyard

depths and cellars of unseeing

witness a ribcage flattened

and skin scrubbed with shards

of glass

drink from my own sadness

whilst encouraged skinheads

wreck someone’s stance

unconcerned soldiers thrash

the heartbeats out from a fellow

of twenty, it’s love does not fit

as if this world could have

more loss to drown with,

entire mountains are under

the song of being crouched

and unannounced is being

sought by butchers

“let your music spill red

that rivers are choked”

and when all dna

has been accounted for

burn down this certain

history of obscenity holes

autumns, fifty one of dying

beautifully broken, see the

pitch of the world’s dark

but wonder cannot be

ceased or the patterns

of colour seized

tho’ fervour ferments

religion misguided by


we shall succeed and

prevail the inhumane


a resistance against

the devil worn attrition,

against the horizon’s

judgemental skulls

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