- Vol. 03
- Chapter 04
Carved from stone with your head turned and one lock set free, look to your muse pulsating at your throat
she will release the swallowed words deep in your closeted breast.
Run naked through wet grass sister, taste the siren's scream.
Your father will never rule by fear devoid of linguistic skills.
A smallholder with false clothing and polished tines rooted in barren soil, doomed never to turn.