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Cold Fire Like Surgical Lions Cold fire like surgical lions,Cold Fire Like Surgical Lions by ~stolide
The sad crying of the wind was red and reddened further,
I watched throughout my filaments-a movement of air,
I had the sense – depository of my million years to die or more,
My fingers wept with the arterial surges of our worse yet future,
If the third part of the human footprint is the collapsing cavity
Not on thy – nor from mine. But I felt the drying and fading to the faintest,
When I died, duller and less vital formed flesh. I would die.
I felt no violence toward without killing me.
No matter how twisted, get me out of this storage place universe, somewhere, somewhen.
Holding somethree o
Reflection O mirrors of silver,Reflection by ~stolide
have you not rendered me by the hour,
gnawing at my parietal cranium,
burst open on all sides?
I carry no watch,
instead staying alone,
drifting between spheres,
falling through serpentine coils of space.
The Iron Ring itself serves to complete endless rotations.
And when Night Exhorts the world to be swallowed up by the stars,
the monarch of the universe stares descendant.
Sta.sh
