Attacus Atlas - The Moth Gatherer

Too far

The claws are deep in the flesh

Too deep

The roots are in the marrow

Weary

Death offers a release

Come through

As the sun ascends, the poison becomes healing

Is it visible to the communion?

The staggering, broken bones

A fervent mouth is reaching for hope

Shooting a silk rope at the brimstone sky

Shedding skin

A reptile gaze

Staring at a box with no oxygen

Open up and let it die while it still breathes

While the moon crawls a sprout is born