A Stench of Sage - Cloud Rat

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