death to fruit

Light from Light

be low eve
                     n
                          othing’s
                                           grave
                                                         s
                                                              urf
there are stars and the shadows of aeons 
curling creatures in their flames
like twisted slinkys in satan’s fairground
where nothing is grounded, nothing fairer
than Will or Might or a certain absence of
humanity or who we used to be, unused
garments among the gore and the giving
from dark to dark, death to fruit
sin to sin as above so below, without, 
within
but objects aside a light so bright
may appear as shadow, fraudulent
or otherwise weak

the darkness of this place
could just be
an afterimage
of a realm as yet imagined. 

Sketches With Moondrops ►

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