A prayer to my vices; return to rust.
Crooked dreams stow not your fears beneath the smoke and dust.
A hope for my shackles; leave with the gust.
Blessed wings strain not your reach beneath the light they crushed.
A breath to the bastards clutching your crown,
A breath to the bastards anchoring down,
A breath to the bastards tearing the hull; wretched seams sow not false needs beneath that precious skull.
Cover photo by Luke Pownall.
released December 7, 2014
all rights reserved