From Within
It pours out like poison, diminishing existence.
Vomit spewing from our deepest crests.
Beauty can be salvaged but only in mass
Clench the fist of power.
"The poem is the cry of its occasion"
From Within
It pours out like poison, diminishing existence.
Vomit spewing from our deepest crests.
Beauty can be salvaged but only in mass
Clench the fist of power.
