We slink into the cocoon world,
stream into being,
slide through the gateway
lodging in ourselves

Charged green stars
threaded along the wires,
flicker and grind
to our curves

Hungry for the glow in the velvet pit,
consumed by the inevitable:
inside this place
of solid metal gears,
concrete and black shadow,
opening the empty buzz and the underscore
nostalgia in crescendo,
so near,

But the wintry little king should have arisen by now
to go seeking the echo
under the void--
We discovered his body
curled in two
black signatures, ashes, grains of heartbeat dust
blood destruction
cresting stark mythologies

A winged invitation
--unfurled-- to the hieroglyphic crossroads.

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made by Vixen Phillips | foxtail @ protonmail . com | @subtransience@tiny.tilde.website | @foxtailrainbow