The descent starts
with a dance, of tears and fire...

He had pulled in many springs
but failed to find a heaven...

A frame
lifts the skirt of a portrait...

It in now dark.
Talking of exposed genitalia...

It was not dark
in a killing field...

An ascetic dies in a shoe
spilling blood...

Turn the corner
and you will find, some dark figures...

A killer moon
blinks...

The accretion of a perfect squall
when claws were out...

In a haunting trove -;
there was a synthetic insanity...

Lashing out at invisible enemies
you focus on virtue test...

A blind spot
was clinging on to earth...