madness, bleeding out of my tear ducts like the slime oozing from the innards of corpses, dripping dew condensing on the stones that comprise the walls of the water well, screaming at me, tearing my bones into splinters
. . .
my subconscious is dripping, dripping red onto the pages of a glowing window somewhere . . .
Sunday, July 29, 2018
we saw your image
We went, bent, and convulsed. We saw blood, Lord. It was glittering. You dispensed it and we drank it. We saw your image.
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we hear you...