autumn-eyed & wither some






architecture being folded being

torn at by unseen lungs, canopies

great crowns are posting handprints

letting limbs shake off their children

graffiti corpses for rot to attire




those that are still realising their

buds wanting their promise their

innards to fling open, may as well

scythe the root from being stood,

that final bee run thru’ with a spider’s




homicidal strangle




naught here but hospices and patients

cusps of wither and buRnt out elation,

rust galore a creeping it’s slow orange

roar, there’s halting and stagnation about

tired feelings of air




commit to another year urges somewhat

asleep and sore from attrition and fierce

weathers, abrupt hair has fallen and necks

no longer leaned on, the sky has been

tipped of it’s wings




nuances are adding cemeteries daily,

colours are draining, resistance is

reducing held onto fruition, wombs

are beginning to stone to refuse, i’m

being creased into nothing




furnaces being put to cots


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