Scratched into the Past
Greying apparitions scurry silently down hirsute paths, nestled amongst the cloying warmth of flaking skin. Their crude cement seeps across the contours of our ancient
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Greying apparitions scurry silently down hirsute paths, nestled amongst the cloying warmth of flaking skin. Their crude cement seeps across the contours of our ancient
Embalmed in earth, your chiselled contours lay dormant in another’s chamber; rivulets in rock congealed with dampened soil until we break you free and into
Abandoned at the mouth of your shelter you quivered apprehensively at our approach, crying out to be held as we proclaimed the exception of your
These ancient frozen soils supress secluded secrets, our speculative stratigraphy too coarse to expose the folly of your foundation; panning for timelines that slip through