Jun 8, 2019
Thus Rust reaches the gate. Its grin frozen by the chilly airs of this place, needle teeth singing tunes when struck by snowflakes.
It is scarred and open-hearted. Bleeds over itself in crystallized rivers.
Knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Here, again. Again, again, again, again, again, again.
Sit down by the snow. No- I’ve no intention of stepping out there. Not yet. I’ve much ahead. But sit, sit. Be welcome.
I’ve so much to tell you.
And when this is over, it shall sink rather than go. Into depths rather than heights. And their lovely lovely spines will make you an ending all for yourself.