High Lonesome Again

A Hir A Thoddaid

The valve pumped cold red, on through the bore
As screaming neurons opened the core
I reached the knob of life’s closing door
Stone silence, as my soul hit the floor
Exhale, breath abandoned lungs mattered not
Idle chatter breeze, lonesome no more

The new collection On Driftwood and Oblivion is now available.