bark! we are the tragedians, we mach abreast,
onward to our inmost, forever exploring the heavens to claw at carrion,
to
cloth our hearts in thorns and our wounds in robes of salt.
tearful darkness, me! for yours is an inmost of scarlet tears,
and
likewise is mine of mournful origin was the herald of the sun,
as its marrow drowned in us, the hordes of pain,
laughing within the
flames of a veiled and fevered tale,
but ashore the threshold to our very own tragedies
our eyes cannot move the firmament of
grievance,
holding the essence of all naked limbs,
so sore but yet heading for other tales
from the blazing valleys in our
midst...
