Text 16 Apr 39 notes stranded thought life

and again this falling snow
throws invigoration
at the ground
but winter is dead
and in death it works
trying to hide either
the remnant ugliness
or the coming beauty
change is coming
and she’s calling again
my love, the land is too treacherous
for man beast
machine and ghost
baring it all
the land
bearing down on me
baring its teeth at me
smiling fangs dripping
about to feast
on a quivering morsel
of tender exposed flesh
the wind
a howling holy ghost gospel choir
calls me home
I finish my life on my knees
grace my sole recourse
my final act plays out
who knew I had hidden
so much regret?

  1. tasmisr reblogged this from darkhorsepoet
  2. virulent-tuber reblogged this from darkhorsepoet
  3. virulent-tuber said: This. Such an infectious read.
  4. darkhorsepoet posted this

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