Weird dawn of dreams.
Cut words, chocking river.
Wound stags on the punished grounds.
Iron curtains, dark mistresses.
Warm soft hands touching warm soft skin.
Dust,Knives, voices call out of the wilderness. Receiving high fever, a pair of wings crash.
Laughter now from the valley,the idea of vision escapes. Red stained throats, mangled hands.
The end of hunting,temporary hiding places.
Turn the night into a carrier of sleep.
Warm wheel is turning,the beast is caged.
J.S.