A Stench Of Sage

I am the worm that moves from page to page
Reaching for his arm, patched-up stripped sleeve
Steel spirals shine from their vests
This is madness
Pure darkness
Burning death-flies and contorted flesh
Looking from the line, they mumbled
Streams of steam tumble
Drifting from our gums...
A wish for the clouds; pure harsh rain
I am the mixed menace
I am the half-bred whore
They didn’t ask for anything but our mothers forest floor