For action was hers
The will of a thing
That did not exist
Names
Swords
Guns
Pennies
Voices
Bitten
Arteries
Lungs
Brains
Thick
With burning brass
YOU ARE READING
S a l e t é I I
HorrorThat is to say, downhill. Ever beneath. Time fades. Hop, skip, jump. Hide and seek. Scatter, like mice. Things were planted here, and soon they'll grow. No tears, little one. Red doesn't always mean danger. They've all had their tumbles, and learn...
