Mixed into two feet of decay,
smells of death, and rot, and must.
It tears at cells of life
melting them into the muck.
This purgatorial zone eats life.
Draws it in, turns it, rolls it into heat.
Turning life, churning life, burning life
out of this dead thing.
Categories: Poems
thats good
that poem was horrible
that was awsome
it was awsome
that was awsome