Burrow - Infant Island

Truly unsettled, I alone withhold a form or shadow

Feast of flesh and self, 'til limitless potential gratifies cold,

yet fluid aberrations;

swarming among a stream, infecting

Dissect to undo

Renewal of my grandest fears

Burrow a hollow frame, a home

Burrow or swallow, an age forlorn

Burrow a hollow fate, in stone

True forms renewed within shadow

Futility to be fed on a shell called life

An etched scar to be bled among timeless echoed blight, all to be resurfaced

Resurface, resurface, resurface

Still living, still waiting, still craving

More than their lies, more of the sky