The nature of nature. Evil against women, and the evil that women do. All the animals, and all the trees, organic with sin. Hands of terror, reaching up from the core of whores. Persistent rain and wind along with all the insects in her belly. Hair and English scent stained into the fabric of what we are, there’s blood on the carpet that still disturbs. Saliva on bitten throats as madness blossoms within her skull. Her frame is sometimes weak, and sometimes full like a birds nest. Full of twigs and eggs. Alive with flesh. Swimming with disease. Unclean. Tainted, just like the limbs of fate. Holy soil. Dead martyrs, always wanting more. Witches on lips, speaking words of limbo. Hold me, and bury me in you. Let our wounds be true, and glue us together once more. Let the sun fall from the sky, and burn all that chains us to imperfection. No plastic culture, just a trinity of divinity, howling in the darkness. Curled like babies in the womb, waiting to be born again. Hush now, and feed me your kiss. Sweet like devilry. Sickened like the marks on the soles of your feet. Birth and totem polls raised and praised to kingdom come. Swayed and betrayed, shifting from one form to the next. Nature, somewhere between heaven and hell. Somewhere translucent, and somewhere deep inside what keeps me safe through the night.

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