Cullen Snow

Lost of all things pure and right;
those simple things for children and sick.
dying somewhat coldly with cruel contempt
we break those that serve and worship those that break.
...

she sleeps in glass boxes to see
who wakes her..
she dies a little more
with each leaf that falls
...

shattered screams in twisted scapes
broken dreams over rivers' wakes
bitter taste over forked tongues
sorry eyes into fallen hands
...

Those burning eyes so wet with pain
those hearts of dogs and fallen men
whose fighting starts and ends in vein
those weathered songs that ever cling
...

Nobody claims it so it dies alone
floating in the sea and drifting further.
The dead fly against the currents
to carry it back; my feet scrape
...