The Mourner’s Oak
The physical, metaphysical, delusional and back… This is what’s running in the back of my head ALL the time, car, iPod. Here, they shall gather… Among its bows and hither. In the spring or summer sun, bright are the voices…
Morgion
Blood Will Follow Blood
There’s a cruel poem book, an engraving in your mind. And every time you’ll turn me one more page. I will strike through your eyes like a thunder from the sky. And show you all the might of my rage.…