See the girl with the thorn necklace hanging high in the old pines?
her blood smells like honey. her blood is black upon her neck.
Seasons change, cold rain turns to snow
And men from all over converge upon the site to stare at
the corpse high up in the pines. 1000 faces transfigured by time.
Sun Splitter
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment