Time is… Warped gargle,
nexus of the fallen,
calling from an older lyric smoldering.
Unto fixed heights, the weaponized
circumstance of this my heating…
We make the lines that lead
from marsh to grave. We could save one
for the fire. Gruff rebuff.
Flaxen heretics mix it up, mix it up.
Something strange reborn from cold.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 