exiled in a timeless zone, all of methusula’s friends got charred and blackened


noptic troubadours bayed silence through their empty sockets and whistled hush curse

in cryptic syllables.

If swoop derives sideways and lies, drops of saffron teats bay a bred silence and breed violence so as sweep sends skyways it sings


grand velour weavings often soften the pummels that

mars bruises and bends in shame. It happened under a blue moon.