This rival of
Mindspace,
Perception,
and Fate
...
There was a forced solemness among the mourners at the tiny grave. Thick clouds drew grey glazes in fear of drying the tears of those who dared to weep. They all weeped for her sake... Little Bathory Baker.
The sole daughter of the towns only hat-maker.
She grew no more past ten, yet a dire spirit lurked within her. She was unable to cry that day, little Bathory Baker.
Standing at her mothers ill-fed side she stared at the tiny grave too.
...
We hope to god that
in this delicate romance
of those of us
without pockets in our pants,
...
I awoke again this day
With no motion in my heart
With strings of misfortune plucking
The intstrument of time were apart.
...
It was in this moonlight,
Tinted glass drops like starlight
Brought my attention to flight,
One night
...
And so it is that
From whence the dusk of slumber
Came, arose the palest thunder
In their eyes, once
...
Thus begins the new life
Shed the old
Like the tattered soles
Of tattered shoes
...
As the wolf cries and the moon waxes,
I shed a tear for humanity,
As the air bleeds and the sun blackens,
I shed a tear for myself.
...
Forever
In Leather
And a whip-swing cut
They never see her face
...