Return…by G. Mramor

Your body is an old dark place now, what light comes through corrupted wounds vanishes in the dark inner hollow, and from your snowy head water downpours but makes no sound, falls endless into the pit the graveyard of your bones the corroded emptiness of you now, and if I were to fall into your body I would see you in your forming and falling deeper I would see the root that sprung you up from a stone violence and beyond I would see the nothing you once were, and see now your back-bending hunger, to return to nothing

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