• ~Rhythm & Blood~

    There is a storm that is coming


    And he knows her smell
    that is dark in his grassy bed
    Oak and felt look, tired

    edges and songs royal – blood like lightning
    Sharp’ning in the ever-gale
    Forced, red-eye’d

    Sleepless nights of endless calls without her
    In the thunder we all knew
    sing, O ye storm; O, sing me to cold sleep