Raping Harvest of the early mourn.
Slashing down the youthful grain.
As they all fall.
Slowly into dirt.
Watching the rippling skys above.
Dreams of heresy.
My eyes are open and my heart closed tight.
Letting nothing but the miasmic fog to seep in.
Death on the winds.
God, she is hungry, starving under your influince.
A withering mess of our former selves.
Like a beating in the moonless night.
Shadows of our devils.
Shoving us all throught the crushing gears.
Pulverised and comprimised, like woodchips in the morgue.
This is the year end celebration, death on the doorstep waiting for the chime.
And as the day light breaks the pain becomes more indearing.
Like a blanket of tears washing through.
Thin and sour.
Torn asunder.
Sow as u reap and rape as u witness.
Salvation in the cloud of churning dirt.
Nonsence.
Another memorie which we never experince.
Dreams infiltrating reality.
Spys to our own court.
Help us tend to the field of graves.
I.R.M. 09/01/07
